Watch Fire

by Jade Wolfe

  Then I bit into the first small, pale cookie. It tasted like licorice, which I didn't like, and bananas, which I did like. So a toss-up. I didn't care. I just ate the things, happy that Miranda knew how to make me better.

  Lucy stood up. "Everything is under control. Now you sleep."

  “Wait.” I had questions. “What about the folks in town?”

  She frowned. “We’ll be doing some damage control for a while, but don’t worry about that right now, Indigo. We’ll figure it out.”

  “What about Tom? Did he go home?”

  Her frown turned to amusement. No, he’s still around. Why? Are you worried about him?” she teased.

  I rolled my eyes. “No – I want him to go home. He’s too nosy.”

  “Well, you can’t make him disappear.” She bent down, kissed my forehead with cool lips, grabbed her purse and left.

  I watched her go, then watched the empty door for a long time. People came and went, I could see them through the small wire-crossed window in the glass. Miranda's cookies made me very warm, to the point that I pushed off my covers and thought about going to put my head on the big window that looked out on the cloudy day. I didn't, mostly because I was afraid I'd fall over and hurt myself. Well, hurt myself worse.

  Once the heat subsided, my skin began to tingle. It wasn't unpleasant, but it wasn't comfortable, either. I paid attention to it for a while, curious at how the sensation moved from section to section on my body, then eventually fell back to sleep, wondering if it was healing me an inch at a time.

  When I woke up again, my face was pointed toward the window. It was dark outside.

  A doctor was standing at the foot of my bed. He was a pudgy, short man who carried himself like he was very tired. "Hello. I'm Doctor Taggart." He offered a smile, which I returned. "How are you feeling?"

  I took stock of my body and discovered that I was feeling a lot better. I could breathe more easily, and my throat didn't feel like it was on fire anymore. "I'm not hurting so much," I offered. "I don't think I'm going to die now."

  He chuckled. "That's great. Surprising, but great."

  I gave him a look that was mostly a question.

  "You haven't had any pain meds for a while." He looked at the chart and flipped a page. "Since this morning, actually. You should be in worse shape. I'm glad you aren't, though. Maybe we've got a small miracle happening here."

  If he considered no pain a miracle, what kind of shape was I in? I asked him.

  He pulled up a chair, the same chair Lucy used, and sat beside the bed. "You've got two cracked ribs and the rest of them are bruised. I'm surprised you can breathe without gasping in pain. You've fractured a wrist, shattered an ankle, and - just in case you haven't checked the mirror - two black eyes. About thirty percent of your body is badly bruised."

  I grunted, not sure what to say to that.

  "The question is," he said, leaning forward and setting the clipboard on the end of the bed, "What were you doing out there? They said you were involved in a cave-in, but what caused it?"

  I shook my head.

  "My kids love Red Rock," he continued, clasping his hands. "If there is something dangerous out there, I'd like to know."

  No you wouldn't, I thought. "I was just messing around in one of the restricted areas," I said. "It was stupid. An accident."

  "You live not too far from there, don't you?" he asked. "With your grandma Lucy?"

  I nodded.

  "Are there lots of abandoned mines like that out there? Should I start going out there with them, in case something like this happens again?"

  I wanted to tell him that his kids probably weren't fighting rogue witches, but that would sound crazy. Instead I said, "You might want to go with them for the next few months, anyway. It won't hurt to know about the park, just in case something happens." I paused. "It's safe, but...you know. Better safe than sorry, and all that."

  I was a big fan of parents spending time with their kids, so I would have given him that advice regardless of what was going on in the park. This way, I didn't have to come up with a cover story, at least. I was feeling better, but I still wasn't thinking clearly enough to make up answers out of whole cloth. "Lots of trails to make a person lose his way, even if they don't end up in a cave like I did."

  He was nodding, taking in my advice. "Sounds like a good plan. But you think it's safe? I mean, you're the fourth person I've treated this week who got hurt out at Red Rock."

  Who? Me and the sheriff. Tom, probably. Who else? I wanted to ask, but didn't know if that was breaking some super-secret medical rule. I could ask Lucy later, if I remembered.

  We chatted for a few more minutes, but the good doctor looked like he wanted to leave, so I pretended exhaustion to give him the excuse. Once he was gone, I took stock of my body again. Everything that I tried to wiggle, wiggled. Everything I tried to move, moved. Mostly without pain. I was pretty sure Taggart was going to be happy with the next set of x-rays. Probably surprised, too. Definitely flabbergasted and confused. Miranda's medicine was fast-acting and effective, compared to what passed for health care in the real world.

  It was nearly midnight when a quiet knock sounded on the door of my room. When I looked I saw Lucy. She waved and I waved back. Then she opened the door and came in, with Raul following close behind her. "Feeling better?" she asked. "You've got a visitor."

  I nodded, keeping my eyes on Raul. He sensed it and came to the side of the bed. His dark suit and slim mustache looked stark in the gray light from the lamp. The shadows it cast made him look downright ominous. "Raul," I greeted him.

  I was curious, but I didn't feel like pushing him. Let him bring up the subject of his favor. He took my hand, patted it, then let it drop. It was obvious that he wasn't an overly affectionate man, from the look of polite disdain on his face. "It's a pleasure to see you again," he said with a little bow, "Even though the circumstances are less than stellar."

  I tried for a chuckle. "You've got that right. What can I do for you?"

  He looked uncomfortable. "I want to ask you a favor," he said. "We have a particularly talented band of witches in our employ, and I need to add onto that number."

  "A...what?"

  "I take the best and brightest of the witches I train and use them as sort of a special forces." He still looked uncomfortable, even half turned away from me. Like he was going to run out the door any moment. "They travel between the parks and deal with any unusual situations that come up."

  "Oh." What did this have to do with me? I glanced at Lucy, but she only looked surprised.

  He finally faced me. "I would like you to join that group."

  "Why?"

  I could have just said no. I mean, I barely had my magic under control, and I still had a lot to learn. What made him think I would do anything other than slow down his special forces, or whatever? "I mean, I don't really think I'm qualified, Raul."

  Lucy shot me a look that was mild concern and a little confusion, but she didn't say anything.

  "You're right," he said. "I don't mean for this to happen right away. You'll need at least another year to learn the proper skills. Think about it, but don't think for too long. Lucy needs to know."

  This time we both looked at him.

  He smiled. "Lucy, she'll need a few extra skill sets if she'd going to do this. Let me know what she decides, and I'll give you the details."

  Lucy's eyebrows came up, but she didn't say anything. I looked from her to him, not sure what he was talking about, but positive that things were about to change.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The next day, after a very nice nurse checked my sling, wrapped my ribs, and found me a set of crutches, I got to go home. I was glad - the sterility and forced politeness of the hospital made it impossible to relax there. Lucy pushed my wheelchair down to the curb, where Pearl waited in her sedan. I'd wanted them to bring the Escalade, but Lucy pointed out that even if they did, I wouldn't be able to climb into it.

  It w
as for the best - I didn't really trust Pearl to drive it, anyway.

  Home was a welcome sight, especially the wafting aroma of Lucy's banana bread that greeted me as I hopped my way through the door. "Mm," I said, stepping in out of the chilled air. Winter was coming quick.

  "I know. It's really good."

  The voice came through from the kitchen, and when I peeked in there I saw Tom. Sam was with him. They were sitting at the bar, munching on thick slices of the golden bread. My mouth watered. I nodded at Tom, then smiled a little when Sam's eyes met mine. "Want some?" he asked, brandishing his saucer.

  "In a bit," Lucy answered for me. "We need to get her settled first."

  "I'm OK," I protested, but she waved a hand and steered me on past the door, down the hall, and to my bedroom, where I half-collapsed onto the bed and groaned. I was more tired than I thought.

  "Can you undress, or do you need me to help?" she asked, not quite looking at me. I wondered what was wrong, but knowing Lucy, she would talk about it when she was ready. Apparently, whatever Raul had mentioned back at the hospital was on her mind.

  I waved a hand. "I'm fine. Quit fussing. I would like some of that banana bread, though." I grinned at her and batted my eyelashes.

  She laughed and shook her head. "I'll bring you some."

  "It's OK - give me a minute and I'll come out."

  She frowned and glanced at my ankle. "You sure?"

  I nodded and shooed her out.

  She had helped me put on a loose dress at the hospital, but seeing Sam made me feel uncomfortable in it. I wasn't sure why - it wasn't like he could see through the material or anything like that. Still, I went to my dresser and found a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. It still felt too informal, but I wouldn't be wearing my jeans and boots for a while.

  Clothes changed, I went into the bathroom to splash water on my face and comb my hair, refusing to think about why, exactly, I might be doing all of this. Then I gathered my crutches and clomped out to the kitchen.

  Sam and Tom were still there, talking with Lucy. She was laughing about something, and I smiled, thinking how pretty and feminine she looked, especially being almost a millennium old. Tom looked tired and a little reserved, but he was telling her some story. I noticed that when he wasn't needing saved or being annoying, he had a nice smile.

  Sam saw me come in and waved. Then he got up and patted his bar stool for me to sit. I grinned at him and hitched over to the bar. ""Sorry," I said.

  "For what?" He leaned against the bar on one elbow. He was wearing another dark denim shirt with the rolled up sleeves. The blue matched his eyes. This close, I could see that a small peppering of gray, nearly invisible, tinged his sandy hair. He smelled like wood smoke.

  I shrugged. "For taking your seat."

  He smirked, but I could see a million questions in his eyes. Questions he would ask later. Questions I wasn't sure I could answer. "I think I can get over it," he said. "How are you feeling?"

  Lucy placed a slice of bread in front of me on a saucer, then she handed me a fork. It was warm and dripping with melting butter. My mouth watered, and I didn't waste any time getting the first bite. It was good to be home. I groaned and enjoyed it.

  Tom shifted on his bar stool. When I looked, he was looking back. "What happened out there, anyway?" he asked, point blank.

  I blinked, and my eyes slid to Lucy, who shook her head a tiny bit. To keep from answering, I took another bite of bread.

  "Leave her alone," Sam said, standing up straight and looking over my head at his buddy.

  Tom's eyebrows went up, but he just nodded and muttered, "Sorry."

  My opinion of Sam rose another notch. If he could back down a reporter like Tom, he either had serious clout or he just didn't give a damn. I truly couldn't decide which. Lucy turned away, went to the fridge, and poured me a glass of milk. When she came back, she said, "Gentlemen, I don't mean to be rude, but Indigo needs her rest."

  Tom started to say something, but her look stopped him. She might be pretty and feminine, but she could stand her ground, too.

  Sam put a hand on Tom's shoulder. "Of course, Lucy's right."

  I hid my frown in another bite of bread. I didn't want him to leave. Just Tom. Oh, well. "I'll call you later or something," I said. "We still have something to discuss, right?"

  "Absolutely. You ladies have a good day."

  The two men made their way back through to the living room, and I couldn't help but sneak a glance at his butt.

  Just a small one.

  Lucy let them out, then came back. "Sorry to get rid of your friends like that," she said, "but Miranda needs to take care of you before she leaves."

  I looked up. "Where is she going?"

  Lucy grimaced. "Peter's funeral."

  "Oh. That sucks."

  "It does. I wanted to go with her, but someone," she rubbed her hand on top of my hair, "had to go and get herself hurt."

  "Well, I didn't exactly do it on purpose," I muttered.

  About that time a knock sounded on the front door. "Come on in, Miranda," Lucy called, already going to cut her a slice of bread. I swore that one of these days I was going to plant her a banana tree orchard.

  Miranda's red hair was sprinkled with white. "Is it snowing?" I asked, glancing out the window at the far end of the room.

  "Just a little. It's pretty, though." She smiled and dusted the flakes off her shoulders.

  Only when she set it down to take off her coat did I realize that she was carrying a small but wicked-looking skill saw. I stared at it.

  Lucy saw my face and laughed.

  "What are we doing again?" I asked, taking a drink of milk.

  Lucy patted my hand. "Before Miranda can heal your bones, she's got to take off that cast."

  I imagined her sawing her way up my leg. "Have...have you done this before?"

  "Nope, but it shouldn't be too hard," Miranda said. "When I was ten I broke my arm. I took that cast off with a screwdriver and a pair of needle-nosed pliers."

  She looked awfully proud.

  "Oo-kay," I answered quietly.

  "It's just plaster. Almost as flimsy as paper mache."

  "Yeah, I know." I reached down to my ankle and thumped the hard, heavy cast with my knuckles, still eyeing the tool.

  "My flight leaves at four," Miranda was telling Lucy. "You sure you can't go with me?"

  Lucy frowned and glanced at me.

  If you need to go, then go," I said. "If Miranda here works her miracles, I'll be fine, right?"

  She nodded. "You could stay with Pearl," she started to say, but I was already shaking my head. "No way. Her house is a wreck. She's probably got a date, anyway."

  Miranda raised an eyebrow. "Who is she seeing now? She's already worked her way through most of the men in town."

  Lucy's eyes went wide. "Miranda!"

  Miranda shrugged.

  "Tom, I think. Maybe," I answered. "So yes, she's moved on from the locals."

  "Indigo!" Lucy shot me the same look.

  "Well..."

  "Let's just get this done," Lucy said. "If you're feeling better, I'll go with Miranda."

  They helped me to the living room sofa. Lucy spread a towel on the floor between my seat and the coffee table, then hoisted my casted leg up onto the wood. "Hold still," she warned unnecessarily.

  I nodded. Miranda plugged in the saw and it screamed to life, making me wince.

  She said something to Lucy, who answered her and then wrapped her hands around the partly covered bottom of my foot to hold me still. The saw, somehow, got even louder. My entire body tensed. I grabbed a pillow and squeezed it tight against my chest, refusing to look.

  The pressure made me jump, but I managed to keep my leg still, with Lucy's help. The saw went to work, throwing out bits of white all over the carpet. It felt like it took forever to just get the first couple of inches open. Lucy gave me a sympathetic smile but didn't let go of my foot.

  When it was over Miranda shut off the saw, b
ut I could still hear it screaming in my ears. I shook my head, then looked to make sure my leg was still there. It was, although wrinkled like it had been underwater for a few hours. Air rushed into the crack and gave me goosebumps.

  Miranda set the saw down, then pried the cast apart and slipped it off my leg. "See? That wasn't so bad, was it?"

  My ankle was black and somewhat swollen. I was afraid to move it. Miranda left the room and brought back her bag and pulled out a small plastic covered bowl. There was something dark and tar-like in it.

  "What's that?" I asked.

  "A healing paste," she said. "Take off your sling and lift your shirt."

  I frowned.

  "I need to apply this to your ribs, too," she explained.

  It was odd seeing her act so matter-of-fact. She was normally such a gentle, patient person, even in the midst of her work.

  The shadows under her eyes and the shortness of her words told me that she was feeling more about her ex-husband's funeral than she was willing to show. I felt bad for her, but I didn't know what to say to make her feel better, so I did as she asked.

  Everything was sore, so it took me a few minutes, even with Lucy's help. Miranda felt along my ankle and leg until she found the spot that made me hiss, then put both hands on the area to warm it, saying soft words to herself as she did. Then she scooped some of the paste from her bowl and placed it where her hands had been. My entire leg began to heat up and then pulse slightly.

  She did the same thing to my wrist and ribs.

  "Anything you can do for my black eyes?" I asked, only half joking. I looked like hell.

  She smiled. "I would, but I don't have time." She looked at Lucy. "Do you need to pack a bag?"

  Lucy smiled softly and reached over to pat Miranda's shoulder. "I already did. This morning."

  She had known that Miranda would need her. I smiled at that. These two women had been best friends and allies for hundreds of years. I couldn't begin to imagine that kind of devotion.

  Somehow, the thought made me lonely.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Since I was bound to the house for the next few days, I decided to take the time to check out Lucy's library. Early morning light streamed in through the single window, highlighting her wingback chairs and the ancient desk, but leaving the books dark on their shelves. Outside, some sort of bird chittered away, maybe fighting for that early worm.