The Beltane Witch (Cloudburst Colorado)

by Muir, Siobhan

  Sabrina hissed as agony flooded her awareness. She yanked her sweater away from her skin and tried to focus through the ringing in her head. Tears blurred her eyes as she struggled to breathe, her ability to inhale momentarily curtailed. The waitress tried to mop up the coffee on Sabrina’s belly with her bar towel, but she succeeded in only irritating the reddened skin.

  Sabrina moaned and writhed away, batting futilely at the other woman’s hands as her head swam from the lack of oxygen. A shadow loomed over her, darkening her fading sight.

  “Breathe, Lady Foxglove.” The rich voice penetrated her addled brain and she looked up into teal green eyes filled with concern.

  What did he say? She frowned and shook her head in confusion.

  “I said breathe. Remember to inhale.”

  I can’t… Sabrina’s mind raised the white flag and surrendered to the darkness.

  ****

  Darius’s gut contracted as Sabrina’s eyes rolled up in her head and her body relaxed completely. But she still didn’t inhale.

  Mumbling choice curses under his breath, he laid one hand over her burned belly and the other on her forehead, hoping he could coax her back into consciousness. The waitress fluttered with incoherent distress beside him and he sent a mental command to retreat back far enough to stay out of his way. She stumbled away, wringing her hands, and he turned his attention back to the wounded witch.

  Anger stirred at the vivid red welts already forming on her creamy skin. Stupid serving woman. His protective instincts swelled and he closed his eyes, ignoring the fear shouting against Sabrina's ability to survive the nasty blow to her head.

  Don’t be melodramatic. It’s only a faint.

  Except she still hadn’t taken a breath. Panic screamed at the edges of his awareness and he hoped he could reach her despite their short association.

  Bloody hell, woman, inhale!

  Chapter Three

  Sabrina stood at the foot of a suspension bridge extending into the mists, the cool wetness of spring dripping off the struts of the bridge. Silence of the senses surrounded her. No sounds, tastes, smells or textures shook the stillness. Only foggy sight offered any indication she still existed.

  Sabrina frowned.

  This had to be a dream because nothing like this stood in Cloudburst. The hazy silhouette of a great tree awaited her at the far end of the bridge, but the distance of the span escaped her estimation. She grasped the guy ropes and squeezed to find some sort of physical purchase, but her hands felt numb.

  Where am I and how did I get here?

  Memories sifted, as insubstantial as the mists around her. She shook her head to focus her thoughts, but everything swirled away as substantial as smoke. Something was wrong.

  Sabrina sought to inhale, to find the scents of spring, but she couldn’t breathe. Panic gripped her mind and her hands tightened on the ropes. Oh Goddess, I can’t breathe! She bent at the waist and tried again, squeezing her eyes shut, but her lungs refused to expand.

  Dear Goddess, am I dying? Is that why I’m at the edge of the bridge?

  I can’t die! Who would care for her children? Who would protect them?

  She wanted to wail her distress, but she had no air to expel sound. She bowed her head and tears fell, scalding her cheeks in fiery trails.

  The ropes under her hands vibrated and she stilled, opening her eyes. Raising her head, she stared into the misty expanse of the bridge. A figure materialized half-way along the span, more solid than the rest of this world, and extended his hand out to her. She swallowed hard.

  Darius? What is he doing here?

  Even in his hazy state, he looked noble and strong. She wanted to believe his appearance meant safety and protection, but standing in the center of the bridge he only represented the unknown.

  “Come with me, Sabrina.”

  How does he have breath here and I don’t?

  “You must focus, my lady. You must make the first step. Come back with me.”

  Sabrina shook her head in confusion. Back with him? Back where?

  His expression tightened with frustrated concern. “Take the step. Trust me.”

  She wanted to scoff, but sound required air. Trust him? I don’t know him.

  “Please, Sabrina.”

  Something in Darius’s voice encouraged her, coaxing her to move forward. She bit her lip and extended her foot onto the flimsy bridge, hoping it would hold her weight.

  “That’s it.” Darius remained still, his hand offering her shelter and security. “You can do it. Just take my hand.”

  The bridge swayed in a dangerous arc and she froze on the rickety board, panic dragging at her gut. I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe. The mantra repeated in her mind, eradicating all other thoughts. Sabrina closed her eyes and bowed her head, her hands squeezing the guy ropes until her knuckles cracked.

  “Sabrina, look at me.” She shook her head again. I can’t breathe. “Look at me, acushla.”

  She forced her eyes open. Darius smiled with none of his usual slick charm.

  “Good, my lady. Reach for me, now.” His fingers flexed a little, urging her forward. “Just a few more steps.”

  She wished she could take a deep breath to buck up her courage, but she couldn’t make her lungs work. Panic surged, but she focused on Darius’s face, his expression tight with worry. Why is he worried? Don’t ask questions, just keep walking.

  Sabrina loosened her grip just enough to slide along the prickly ropes, forcing her feet from one worn plank to the next. She kept her gaze locked on Darius’ eyes despite her pounding heart and burning lungs. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she pushed herself onward until she could reach his outstretched fingers.

  Sabrina gritted her teeth and flailed for his hand, desperate to reach him. When his warm fingers closed around her frozen skin, relief flooded through her as he drew her into his embrace.

  “There you go, acushla.” Darius gathered her into the folds of his coat as he wrapped his arms around her. “You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

  As soon as she touched him, her lungs expanded and blessedly sweet air filled her chest. Her belly burned and her head ached, but everything paled before the wonderful ability to simply inhale. Never taking it for granted again.

  “I couldn’t breathe.” Her voice rasped no louder than a whisper, but any sound made her happy.

  “I know, acushla, but you’re all right now. Come, let’s get to solid ground.”

  Darius shifted his body to escort her the remaining steps to the terminus before the great tree, never releasing her waist. She kept her gaze focused on the hazy branches, but the scents of autumn leaves baking in the sunshine and pumpkin spices filled her nose. As much as she loved spring, the scents of the harvest season gave her comfort, and his natural scents, mixed with the leather he wore, brought the harvest alive.

  Goddess of all, he smells wonderful.

  “Sorry?”

  Crap. Did she say it aloud? “I said it smells wonderful here now that I can breathe.”

  “I’m glad you can. I thought I’d lost you.” Darius’s voice sounded remarkably serious.

  “Lost me? So I was dying?” A sick feeling hit Sabrina’s stomach as she reached the tree, touching its marbled bark. “I was that close?”

  His teal eyes held no humor. “You stopped breathing when you hit your head.”

  Sabrina frowned. “I hit my head?”

  “In the coffee house.”

  She looked around at the misty environs. “Where are we now, then?”

  “At the bridge.”

  A rather obvious answer, but she realized he’d capitalized the first letters: The Bridge. She swallowed hard. “Like the Rainbow Bridge of Norse beliefs?”

  “The very same.”

  Sabrina looked back over her shoulder at the rope bridge disappearing into the mists. “I stood on the other side. I was on Tír na nÓg.”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, Goddess, my children.” She clutched his
shirt.

  “They are well, little witch, and so are you. But we must come back to the conscious world or there will be more trouble than just a little headache.”

  “What headache—”

  Pain bloomed like fireworks, lighting Sabrina’s head and her belly on fire. She gasped with the shock of it, opening her eyes. Worried faces filled her vision as sensation came back. The hard floor seeped cold into her shoulder blades while agony clawed at her stomach. She rolled her head and a sickening, wet sound filled her ears as if she lay in viscous liquid.

  “I’m here, acushla. Focus on me, just me.”

  Darius’s voice grabbed her attention and she swung her gaze to him. She moaned as the room kept turning without her.

  “Tír na nÓg,” she whispered.

  “I know, acushla. But not yet.” He didn’t smile as his hand rubbed against the pain in her belly. “You’re needed here.”

  Everything hurt and the pain created a morass of sensation swamping her. Sabrina tried to focus on the individual points of agony, but they bled into each other.

  “I hurt.”

  “I know.” Darius’s voice sounded soothing, but not patronizing.

  “Why?”

  “Do you remember the coffee?”

  Sabrina searched her memories, but she couldn’t find anything about coffee, only the drive to…Where am I now?

  “No.”

  “The waitress dropped some coffee on you when you got up to leave. It burned you and you fell over a chair and hit your head.”

  None of his words sounded familiar. “Am I burned? Is that why my tummy hurts?”

  A soft chuckle issued from him at her choice of words. “It’s not a bad burn. You’ll be tender for a day or so, but it’s not serious.”

  “Is she going to be okay?”

  Sabrina looked up at Moira Callahan. She held a phone in her hand and spoke to Darius.

  “I think she will be fine, but she needs to go home and rest.”

  “I have to get to work…”

  “Not today, you don’t,” Moira said. “I’m calling Mazy and letting her know you won’t be in for at least a week.”

  “Wise choice, Ms. Callahan.” Darius reached for Sabrina’s skull

  Irritation filtered through the pain in Sabrina’s head. “You did this on purpose…”

  He dropped his hands as outrage filled his expression. “I did nothing of the sort, Lady Foxglove.” Darius raised his chin and looked down his nose. “It was an accident.”

  “You just want me to host the…dignitaries.” At least she had enough wits not to name the Summer Court in front of everyone. “Best way to do that is get me out of my job.”

  “I doubt a concussion and a first degree burn is the best way to get you to host anyone,” Moira said drily. “And Tess said it was an accident when you two bumped and the coffee spilled.”

  Moira would never lie to her and Tess seemed honest enough, but she knew the Fae and their minions. She wouldn’t put it past Darius to have finagled Tess’s coffee slosh. Sabrina narrowed her eyes at him, but his expression didn’t change.

  Moira reached for her arm. “Come on, Sabrina. Let’s get you home so you can rest.”

  Darius dropped his imperious attitude to help her up, and she resolutely ignored how much she enjoyed feeling his hands on her. I don’t like his delicious scent or the warmth emanating from his body. At all.

  Moira raised her eyebrows, but said nothing as Darius picked Sabrina up and carried her toward the front doors. Sabrina tried not to blush while the other patrons stared at their passing. She wondered when she’d be able to come back to the Cloudburst after this little episode. Everyone would be talking about it for months.

  “How’d you get here, Sabrina? Did you drive?” Moira asked.

  “Yes.” She squirmed in Darius’s arms. “Did anyone grab my purse and coat?”

  “You have your coat on, hon, and I have your purse.” Moira lifted her bag. “You shouldn’t be driving with your injury. I’ll give you a ride to the hospital in my Jeep.”

  “No, no hospital. I’ll be fine.”

  “Sabrina, concussions are serious.”

  Sabrina held up her hand. “I’ll be fine at home.”

  Moira didn’t look convinced. “Are you sure you’ll be all right alone with the girls?”

  “Yes, I—”

  “She won’t be alone. I’ll be there to help look after her.” Darius’s voice rumbled against Sabrina’s shoulder.

  “No, you don’t have to.” She didn’t want him anywhere near her home when she felt so vulnerable.

  “I want to, Ms. Foxglove. And it’s no trouble. I’ll be happy to stay as long as you need.”

  Sabrina glared at him while the women who’d overheard sighed with “awwws” and “ohhhhs” at his kindness, but she knew his game. His innocent look only added to her frustration.

  The sneaky bastard just got into my home and got a free place to stay.

  “All right then, we’ll get you home in a blink.”

  Moira led them through the kitchen to the back rooms of the bar and gathered her purse, coat, and keys. She hustled them out the door to her snow-dusted Jeep parked beneath a small overhang. Darius set Sabrina in the back seat and climbed in beside her while Moira stepped out to sweep the windshield. Sabrina wondered where he’d put his huge sword, grateful she didn’t have to hold it for him in the car.

  Oh, man, that sounds bad. Can I hold your big sword, Darius? She had to stifle a giggle. Thank the Goddess he can’t hear my thoughts.

  “All ready?” Moira asked as she started up the Jeep.

  “Yes.” Darius brushed her shoulder with his as he sat back, and she inhaled a scented gust of warmth from his jacket.

  Sabrina turned her face before he noticed how much she enjoyed it. She let her gaze drift out her window, hoping the drive home would be quick so she could get away from Darius’s sensual allure.

  They left the town and headed across the railroad tracks, bumping over two sets of them laid side by side. Her gaze followed them where they merged together in a synchronicity of rails and ties. Sabrina wondered if her life would ever find such a connection, the perfect blending of two life-lines into one continuous path.

  She laughed silently at herself. Not likely after Tommy.

  She turned her head just enough to glance at Darius’s noble profile.

  And not likely with this peacock, either. He’s a player and the Fae’s minion. Definitely not husband material.

  Sabrina tried to ignore the flare of pain from her burned belly. Why am I even thinking of husbands? Marty Robinson must have rubbed off on me after his last threat. She sighed and closed her eyes. A woman needs a husband like a zebra needs a frying pan.

  ****

  Darius heard Sabrina sigh and experienced two equally strong and conflicting emotions. His balls tightened up in lust at the same time as concern burned through him for her well-being.

  Damnation, Winterbourne, don’t get so attached to this little witch. Just get her to do her job and forget her.

  But he didn’t like her experiencing pain and his anger still simmered at the other woman’s clumsiness. Sabrina had almost died, nearly ruining the task he’d been sent to accomplish. The Summer Court would arrive in six days and if she'd stayed on the other side of the bridge…

  The drive to her home continued in silence and they turned up a short driveway after no more than a few minutes. Sabrina’s lavender eyes opened when they stopped, but her expression held exhaustion. Darius stomped on a surge of anger as they exited the vehicle. I have no business feeling sorry for her. She accused me of engineering the accident. Despite his indignation, Darius hurried around the Jeep to help Sabrina out. She took his hand, but she refused his offer to carry her. He tried to ignore his disappointment.

  When she tried to pull out of his grip, he tightened it, giving her a stable point on the slippery ground. At least, that’s what he told himself.

  The door to
her home opened and a young, plump woman gasped in dismay when she spotted Sabrina hobbling up the walk.

  “Oh, my God! What happened?”

  “It’s okay, Matilda,” Sabrina soothed, but Darius caught her swaying.

  “She got burned and hit her head. She needs to rest.” Darius helped Sabrina past the fluttering woman and into the house.

  The scents of vanilla and pine flowed around him and soothed some of his concern. Pine boughs tied with golden ribbons decorated some of the flat surfaces around the main room, and warm light gilded the comfortable furniture. Warm, earthy colors filled Sabrina’s home and small toys lay strewn about the throw rugs.

  “Oh, my God. Is she going to be all right? There’s blood in her hair!”

  Matilda’s voice had reached a screech just as they rounded a corner into the living room where a little girl dressed in a purple shirt with a big yellow daisy emblazoned on it played with dolls. When she saw her mother, she jumped up and squealed, “Mommy!”

  “Hi, Holly.” Sabrina’s smile wavered. “Can you help Mommy get to bed?”

  “Why is there blood in your hair?”

  “Is there? I must need to wash it.”

  “Who’s he?”

  The child eyed Darius, her expression guarded. She assessed him like one would examine a feral animal.

  “He’s…” Sabrina grimaced. “Too difficult to explain.”

  “I’m here to help your mommy because she’s not feeling well.”

  Sabrina snorted her derision, but didn’t correct him.

  “Why?” The little girl trailed along with them as Matilda directed them to Sabrina’s bedroom. “Why isn’t she feeling good?”

  “She hit her head on a table,” he said and Matilda gasped.

  “Oh, my God, does she have a concussion?”

  The repetition of the phrase grated on Darius’s nerves. He clenched his jaw and took a deep breath of Sabrina-scented air as he called upon his Chamberlain training. He had to appear calm and distract the fluttering creature.

  “I don’t believe so, but the wound looks worse than it is. Just a little cut at the back. We need attend to it and then she can rest.”