The bastard needed to feel a fraction of the pain he’d delivered to Dallas. He knew the man, which twisted his insides even more. How could he have once called that piece of shit a friend?
“I don’t know what I should do with you from here on in, Rex,” he said, bending down to whisper the words. “I was going to kill you, but after I saw Dallas I decided that death was too good for the likes of you. Instead, I think I’ll release you into the custody of a few of your former victims. I’m sure they will know exactly what to do with you.”
Dreadful recognition flared in Rex’s eyes. He blinked madly at him, obviously trying to communicate through the blinks.
“I’m sorry, Rex. I’m afraid I’m not fluent in that kind of language. I realize it’s a dialect of asshole. Alas, it’s lost on me.” He’d bound Rex’s powers. Rex would remain powerless until Oliver decided to retract the spell, and the way Oliver was feeling now, he was pretty certain he’d never do that.
Now what the hell was he going to do with the damn bunnies hopping all over the room? He’d have to either make their transformations permanent or release them back to their native forms and wrap them up the same way he’d bandaged Rex.
He didn’t have time to mull it over any longer. Dallas was on the ground, shaking uncontrollably. He looked over at the fireplace and pointed his index finger. Within a second, a fire burned in the hearth. Walking gradually toward her, he put his hands up so she could see he meant her no harm.
“It’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you,” he said soothingly.
“Who are you?” she finally managed to rattle out in a shaky voice.
“Anya sent me,” he said softly, hoping she wouldn’t grow suspicious of him the way Finley had.
Strong emotions filled her eyes, and by the looks of it, she was on the precipice of crying. He hoped she’d restrain herself. He never knew how to deal with a crying female, especially one as pretty as Dallas. Dallas was as fair as Anya was dark, and though he knew they were cousins, they didn’t really resemble each other.
With shudders still racking her body, she attempted to stand, and her legs wobbled precariously beneath her. He got a good look at her entire body as he reached forward and gripped her around the waist. She was so tiny, much smaller than Anya, and she reminded him of an ethereal creature like an elf or a fairy.
Sirens wailed in the distance. Finally, the Magical Authority had arrived and they would have been too late if he hadn’t come when he had. He feared that Dallas would have succumbed to the torture.
“Thank you for saving my life, Master…”
“Oliver. My name is Oliver White.”
“I have a feeling you already know who I am if Anya sent you here.”
“I do. I’m sorry she didn’t tell you that I was coming.”
“Oh, but she did,” Dallas said weakly. He could tell she was going to pass out soon.
“Stay with me for a little longer, Dallas. The Magical Authority is almost here and they’ll have specialized healers ready and waiting to heal you. I don’t want to prod you, but if Anya told you I was coming, why didn’t you know my name?”
“She never gave me a name. She only said she was sending me a birthday gift, and I have to say, you are the best birthday gift ever.” She reached up to press the palm of her hand against his face, and with that one slight gesture his world was turned upside down and inside out.
Protective, possessive and passionate emotions rolled through him.
* * * * *
Dallas shuddered as she touched Oliver’s face. A magical spark crackled between them, making him inhale sharply. He looked shocked but she wasn’t. A vision began to cloud her mind. This one was going to be one hell of a doozy. Weakness gripped her as she spiraled into a vision that would soon turn into a nightmare.
“Dallas, don’t fall asleep on me.” Oliver’s voice sounded urgent but she couldn’t obey him. The vision was sucking her into its embrace.
“Don’t leave me. I want you here when I wake up. I hate being always being left alone,” she whispered, just before she traveled into her own little world.
Chapter Three
“I’ll be here when you wake up, Dallas. Count on it,” Oliver said. How could he leave now when her touch had made him feel things he’d never imagined possible?
“Dallas?” Finley’s voice carried to them through the expansive house. He slowed to a stop in the doorway to the library. “Please tell me we weren’t too late,” he said hoarsely, emotion flooding his voice. “If I’ve failed her, I won’t be able to stand it. When Marion and Nicholas find out they will be crushed. Not to mention the other members of our coven. She might not know it, but we all care deeply about her.”
Oliver scooped her up into his arms. “She’s not dead. She’s just out for the count, Finley. I’m going to take her to another room and find somewhere comfortable to put her.”
“She looks pretty damn cozy right where she is,” Finley mused, walking up to him. He pressed the back of his hand against her forehead. “She’s burning up. She’s going to need a healer and fast. I’ll go out to be the welcome wagon for the Magical Authority. They know me, and I’ll explain who you are so nothing is misunderstood. I’ll also tell them that Dallas needs help.
“Hopefully they brought a top-notch healer along with them. I would also suggest that you conjure up a cage for those blasted rabbits. When Dallas finally comes to her senses she will not appreciate having rabbit turds all over her house.”
“It’s done,” Oliver said, and light blinked through the room. When it cleared, the rabbits were all gathered together in a cage. Now they could not transform back if they attempted to break through the spell put on them. “As for those blasted bunnies, they are not my handiwork. I suppose she did it before Rex showed up.”
“Dallas?” Finley asked incredulously. “Dallas can barely light a candle with her magic. I’m quite certain she didn’t come up with the complex incantation needed to transform the witch hunters into Peter Cottontails.”
“I can sense great power radiating within her,” Oliver murmured, staring down at Dallas. He tightened his hold on her and strode out of the library with Finley trailing along behind him. “Don’t forget you’ll need a healer for yourself, Finley. You took quite a beating tonight.”
“Yes, lad, but I’m not as important as Dallas. We can’t lose a witch with such an enormous talent and yet, sometimes there are those who wish she didn’t exist.”
Oliver bristled at the unkind remark. He didn’t want to think about those who wished others had never been born, especially when he sometimes wondered if some people thought the same thing about him. “I’d like to meet those who think that about her,” he mused.
He carried her into what had to be the family room, because it was filled with comfy-looking furniture, an old flat-screen television and a large bay window with a window seat and plush pillows, accompanied by several old-fashioned family photos. He loved the stuck-in-the-past qualities that Gerrans had. It was as if the place were locked in time. It looked as if that vintage quality seeped over into the residents’ homes, because he hadn’t seen so many photographs in picture frames in all his life. He gently placed Dallas on the large burgundy leather sofa and covered her with the crocheted cranberry-colored afghan hanging across the back as her body seemed chilled, and yet she was raging with fever.
“I suggest you tell those tardy agents to get their asses in here immediately,” he ordered.
“Yes, sir,” Finley said. “You can get away with that tone with me, Oliver, but I suggest you not use it on any of my former co-workers. They tend to take extreme offense at having warlocks outside the agency ordering them about, even a warlock of your incredible talents.”
“I’ll consider that advice, Finley.” He would take it into account but what he couldn’t tell Finley was that ever since he’d abandoned the Bloodbayne Coven, he had a security clearance amongst the Universal Magical Authority that would supersede any authority th
e local agents wielded.
“You make sure you do that. We can’t have anyone thinking you’re stepping on their toes,” Finley murmured. “I think they’ve just arrived, I’ll be right back. You take good care of her.”
Crackling noises filled the room along with a blast of bright holographic light.
“I was finally able to get past the triple whammy those fucking witch hunters had put on this house. I hope I didn’t miss too much. Wait a second, who the hell are you, and what the hell are you doing with my darling Dallas?”
“I wasn’t aware she was your darling Dallas. If she’s so precious to you, you should have been here during the fight instead of sitting on your lazy ass behind a desk.”
He recognized Clifton Parr from personnel files he’d been given en route to Earth. While Clifton was an honorable warlock and didn’t have his sticky fingers in any nefarious plots, he was known for resting on his laurels a bit too much, and some within the Universal Magical Authority believed him to be one of the laziest warlocks on Earth.
“I do not know who you think you are, sir, but I must protest your treatment of me, and of Dallas. I am quite certain she would not like having you in such close proximity to her.”
He snorted. How the hell would Clifton know what she wanted, unless there was more to their relationship that most thought. Somehow, he couldn’t see Dallas going for a man like Clifton, but he could be mistaken. Maybe she did like egocentric buffoons who were all talk and very little action.
From what he knew about her family, the Redgrave males were men of action, not of idleness, and honestly, when you had those kind of role models, how could you go for big, dumb and stupid?
“I think, Master Parr, that you should tread very carefully. Of course you are a bit of a lightweight, being as you’re only here in holographic form. If you are truly concerned about Dallas, how about you get off your fat ass, get into your car and come visit her in person? That just might show her that you care about her, if that’s important to you.”
Clifton started to sputter, as if he couldn’t think of anything intelligible to say.
“Do you need to go back to school to learn basic communication skills, because right now I don’t think you’re quite up to par, Clifton.”
Clifton grunted, looked fleetingly at Dallas, and promptly disappeared.
“Good riddance to getting rid of that hindrance,” Oliver muttered.
Dallas’s body started to convulse. She was having some kind of seizure. He reached out to grab hold of her so she couldn’t fall off the couch and hurt herself. “No, I will not break. You can’t have my powers,” she repeated over and over again.
He resisted the urge to shake her awake. He didn’t know if she was simply having a nightmare or if she was suffering from something else, and if he woke her he didn’t want to harm her more than help her.
“Finley, where the hell are you? We need some medical help in here on the double,” he shouted, knowing that his voice would be heard miles away as he’d magically amplified it.
The other agents from the Magical Authority barreled into the room as if he’d lit a fire under their butts.
“What took you so long?” Oliver growled as a healer came to his side.
“Please step aside, Master White, we need room to treat Mistress Redgrave.” Only two healers stepped forward to help Dallas, despite the fact that there were four witches in the room wearing the appropriate crest of the healing division of the Magical Authority. It was as if they believed that Dallas carried some kind of plague. He didn’t like the way they snubbed her. He didn’t like it at all.
Finley tentatively touched him on the arm and steered him away to a distant corner of the room by the fireplace.
“I had a bit of a hassle trying to convince them to enter Redgrave House and treat Dallas. You see, they are not from these parts and they view Dallas as a threat. They worry about what will happen to them if they come into contact with her skin.”
Well, that explained why the healers treating her were wearing gloves. Witch and warlock healers didn’t usually have to worry about wearing such hygienic gear as they rarely had to get their hands bloody. Their healing was mostly done by witches and warlocks with the innate talent, or they had the talent for the potions and spells needed to work this part of the craft.
He would find out who these healers were, and when he was done with cleaning up the Magical Authority in Halifax, they would no longer have jobs. He knew he shouldn’t take such extreme action against them, but for some reason he took great offense at how they treated Dallas and yet, he barely knew the woman.
He didn’t know why he felt so strongly about her, nor did he know why he had such an urge to protect her and avenge her. He must have been more affected by their physical contact than he’d originally believed.
“Master Finley, we’ve treated Mistress Redgrave. She should wake up within the next five minutes and be right as an early morning rain. Good evening to you all,” the lead healer said as they all bustled out of the family room.
He sensed them running quickly through the rest of the house. They certainly wasted no time whatsoever exiting the building.
Was she that much of an outcast? If she was shunned in such a foul way, why wouldn’t Anya take her with her on her many travels? He understood that she believed Earth was safer, but still, Anya could protect anyone with the power she had at her fingertips.
In a way, Dallas and he were more alike than he could have ever dreamt. Many kept their distance from him because they feared his father’s name and they feared what might befall them should they ever earn his ire.
Perhaps that was why he felt such a strong connection to her. If soulmates—lifemates—actually did exist, he might have just found his.
He’d almost forgotten Finley’s presence when the man spoke, shattering the tranquil silence.
“She looks a lot better now that she’s been healed up,” Finley mused. “I can’t thank you enough for helping us save her. We promised her mother a long time ago we would always watch over her, and if we had failed this eve, it would have haunted us for the rest of our lives.”
Oliver cast a brief glance toward Finley. “You still haven’t taken the time to get treated. Finley, you can’t keep neglecting yourself. I think you should go out there and catch those healers before they leave. The Gods know they couldn’t wait to get away from Dallas. However I am quite certain they won’t run away from you.”
“Ah, you noticed that did you?”
“I’d have to be freaking blind to not notice it, Finley. I wanted to tan their hides. It took all my willpower not to whammy them with one hell of a hex. In fact, if I had my way, they would have been talking out of their asses and farting out of their mouths for the next fortnight.”
Finley snorted at his ridiculous remark. “While that might be very entertaining for those of us who don’t like the way that new management is handling affairs back at HQ, I doubt it would have done any good. They already think and speak out of their butts as it is. As for me being healed, I’m already starting to mend myself back together. One of my talents has always been self-healing. If I still feel stiff come the morning, I will go to my local healer. He’s due back from his fishing trip tomorrow.”
“How does the local healer view Dallas?”
“Patrick views her with quite a good deal of admiration. He grew up with her father and her uncle. Trust me, he doesn’t think she’s a leper and knows he won’t suffer any ill will at her hands. We’re a very close-knit community, Oliver, and when we have to ask for outside help we sometimes don’t like the way the outlanders act, and yet, we sometimes just don’t have the resources to shuffle along on our own. Mark my words, come the morning, this house will be teaming with townsfolk ready and willing to do, what they need to do to help poor Dallas. They’ll be bringing food and whatever else might make her feel better.”
Emotion welled inside him, which he quickly strangled before Finley noticed his react
ion. He’d never been a part of that kind of a community before and he would believe it when he saw it. He just didn’t have that much faith in the human race, especially those not gifted with the craft.
“Oh, my aching head. I feel as if a train just went through my brain,” Dallas muttered as she stirred on the couch. Groggily, she sat up and winced as she attempted to open her eyes more than just a squint. “It’s so damn bright in here. My eyes hurt and my head, oh, my head hurts.”
Oliver raised his hands and dimmed the lights in the room so it would help to alleviate some of her pain. Her gaze went first to Finley and she faintly smiled. Then she rested her gaze on him, and her eyes went wide with wonder. “So, you really weren’t a dream… You weren’t an angel, were you?”
Her words struck a chord inside him, and though he had to tell her he wasn’t an angel, he wanted to tell her he was, and that he’d be her angel for the rest of their lives.
Chapter Four
“I’m definitely no angel,” he said. “But you can think of me that way whenever you like.”
“I will. As far as I’m concerned you are my guardian angel. Anya really gave me a priceless gift.”
Dallas’s head was pounding and she wished she could magically make it go away. She knew that healers had treated her or else she would have pain riddling her entire body, but when they healed her other wounds, why did they have to leave her with the lasting imprint of a bloody large headache?
“My mouth is dry,” she muttered, trying to stand up. She leveled her gaze on Finley. “Finley, what exactly happened to you, your brother and Marion?”
“We were a bit outmatched, I’m afraid, Dallas. We’re also a bit out of practice, but I’m going to rectify that fact in the days to come. I’m going to crack open my training manuals and get this body back in shape. My mind is sharp but these old bones do need a working out to get them more limber.”
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