by Debora Geary
“Nope.” Michael’s eyes paced the room while the rest of him held still. “He said they’re Daniel’s.”
Oh, hell.
Her husband pinned her with one of his famous presidential stares. “It’s time to tell her. The Prophecy needs to be Nell’s now.”
She nodded. It was well past time—and still, she didn’t know how.
Michael gathered her gently in his arms. “If they’re meant to hold in the future, they’ll handle the message now.”
Chapter 18
Retha felt Nell’s familiar mind presence coming up the front walk. Sunny, happy, with stray thoughts about a lost dragon and chocolate chip cookies. And some plan for Jamie involving scrubbing a lot of lines of code. Just another day at the office.
Wishing with all her heart that it could be so, Retha moved to the door to greet her daughter.
“Hey, Mom.” Nell juggled bags and kissed her cheek. “Wanna come help with dragon clean-up? The southern kingdom is infested again.”
It only took one dragon to be an infestation. Fire-breathing creatures could cause a ridiculous amount of trouble. Retha smiled despite herself—that was fairly true of fire witchlings, too. “No thank you, sweetheart. If you have a moment, I’d like to talk with you.”
Nell held out one of the bags. “Sure. Here are some cookies. They’re not Sammy’s, but I don’t think we totally ruined them.”
The “we” nearly crumpled Retha’s heart. “Daniel bakes cookies, does he?”
Her daughter’s eyes snapped up. “Reading quite a bit this morning, are you?”
It wasn’t an accusation—but the conversation had moved to high alert. Damn. Retha wrung her hands and tried to figure out where to start. She led her daughter into the living room and took a seat—for some reason she couldn’t fathom, this conversation didn’t belong at the kitchen table. “I saw something, darling girl. On the day you were born. And it’s well past time that you know what I saw.”
Nell nodded slowly. “You said that once before.”
“Your birth was a wild one.” Retha sank into the reminiscence, trying to find solid ground. “We didn’t know yet that you would have magic, but you blasted into the world. It was a fast, hard birth—very different from your older brothers.”
A frustrated attempt to be patient danced in her daughter’s mind.
Retha grinned—Nell had never been very good at listening to stories. “During the last part of labor, which you will one day understand is a very intense and surreal experience, I saw snippets of your future. Strong, clear ones.”
Her girl child’s eyes were flat and intent. “You think what you saw is true.”
She did, with all her heart. She always had. “They were powerful visions, Nell—the kind that are hard to ignore. Much of what I saw has already come true.” She pulled up the neat catalog of images in her head and tossed a favorite one to her daughter. “I saw a girl of fire and grit, magic and temper. Right down to the stripey tights you wore when you cast your first stasis spell on your brothers.”
Nell flashed a grin, remembering. “Maybe this precog of yours has a sense of humor.”
Not so much. Retha reached for her daughter’s hand. “It showed me a wonderful grown daughter and a very talented witch.”
Her very smart daughter was catching on fast. “Sounds like it was a home movie of my life.” Nell’s breath caught. “Wait. My life’s not over yet. Why didn’t you tell me—what are you so afraid is coming?”
Retha couldn’t breathe.
Nell’s mind blazed with fury and fear. “Mom. What have you been keeping from me all my life?”
“A child. One who will have the magic of ten.” One who would live every day in life-threatening danger, thanks to the talent running in his veins.
Shock hit, along with rebellion, fear, and fury. “You can’t possibly know that. Magic is totally fickle—you didn’t even know if I would have any, and I’m your child.”
Retha held up a hand to stem the babbling. “You’re right. I don’t know if it will be true.”
Nell quieted and studied her mother’s face. “But you believe it.”
She didn’t answer. The certainty in her mind would speak for her. As would the fear.
Nell’s spine stiffened. She’d heard the fear. “Why tell me now?”
Retha closed her eyes. Tried to match her girl’s fierce bravery. And sent Nell the face of the child she’d held in her heart for twenty-seven years.
She felt the earthquake of shock in her daughter’s heart. Nell’s eyes flew open. Wordless. Pleading.
Some moments as a parent were desperately hard. “I’ve been looking at that face for as long as you’ve been alive. Telling myself he has your father’s eyes. Your brothers’ curls.”
And then she’d laid eyes on Daniel.
“You should have told me.” Nell’s voice was quiet, but her mind screamed the words.
Retha didn’t block a single one. Her mind rocked in agony along with her daughter. “I didn’t know when. And I didn’t know how. We didn’t want it to shape your life.” One day, maybe, her daughter would understand that parenting had so very few absolutes.
She watched, paralyzed, as her daughter teetered on the precipice, torn between love and betrayal. Felt the cells of motherhood rend asunder, waiting for the fall that could so easily come.
She saw it first in her daughter’s eyes. Forgiveness.
Retha gulped air, pathetically grateful for the oxygen back in her world. And held her girl child as tightly as she had that very first day. “I love you so very much, daughter mine.”
“I know.” Nell buried her head in her mother’s shoulder and held on.
The weight of the future settled over them both. And love rose up to meet it.
Retha marveled at the wondrous daughter that was hers—and waited for the battle to come. Nell Sullivan wasn’t going to meet destiny quietly.
Nell stood up and walked to the window, a stray sniffle sneaking off into the dusty corner. “Maybe he has Dad’s eyes.”
Retha smiled and said nothing. They both knew that wasn’t true. The child who might be—was the spitting image of Daniel.
-o0o-
He knew it was bad the moment he opened the door.
Her eyes held fire and fury—and they wouldn’t meet his. “I decided I was right the first time. I need you to go away.”
What the hell. “You came to my house to tell me that?”
If she gritted her teeth any harder, they were going to break. “Yes.”
Anger exploded down Daniel’s veins, looking for vengeance. “You’ve thrown me out of Realm, out of the Dungeon, out of Sammy’s wedding, and now you walked all the way over here to throw me out of your life?”
Defiant eyes met his. “Yes.”
He couldn’t hold back the slashing knives. “And you still think I’m the one who runs?” White-hot heat nearly incinerated his self-control, even as her cheeks paled.
He aimed the next strike—and then fifteen years of gaming saw the truth. He stared at her, temper gone. This wasn’t how The Wizard fought. She never left the battlefield. He remembered a thirteen-year-old girl and her last stand in Maze Wars. Old, sneaky librarians might run and hide and fight another day—but his fire mage? She fought to the death. Stood at a friend’s wedding, insisting on joy, even as her heart broke. Nell Sullivan didn’t walk away from a fight—and she didn’t throw anyone else out of one, either. “What’s really going on here?”
She looked off to the side, face trying to hide in shadows that didn’t exist. “We’re done. I wanted you to know.”
The sadness in her eyes was killing him. “You’re breaking up with me?”
“Yeah.”
Weren’t women supposed to want to talk stuff like this to death? “Do I get a reason?”
Her eyes just got sadder. “No.”
It was like facing home plate with an invisible batter. Daniel hurtled around in the confused mess of his mind, trying to
figure out what pitch to throw. And decided he didn’t like the rules. With as much gentleness as he could find, he reached out for her hands. Held on when she tried to pull away. And waited until her eyes met his. “Please. Tell me what’s gone wrong.”
She stood for an eternity, watching their fingers linked together. “You’re supposed to get mad because I’m being a prickly shit and let me walk away.”
“Yeah.” He tried to keep the grin to himself. “I got that part.”
Her nod was barely visible. “You get me pretty well.”
The “but” hanging in the doorway was the size of Nevada. He waited for it to land.
When she looked up again, her eyes were back to shooting fire. No, scratch that—it was her hands. Sparks flew up from her fingers, still twined with his, sizzling between them.
He gritted his teeth and held on.
“You get me.” She yanked her hands out of his and held them to the sky. Two streaming columns of fire shot out, along with enough heat to make his skin crackle. “But you don’t get this. You don’t get the magic. It freaks you out, makes you scared.”
“Damn straight it does.” He grabbed her wrists, fury rising to fight the fear. “You hold lightning in your hands, woman—that should scare any sane person. Hell, why doesn’t it scare you?”
He read the answer in her eyes. It had, once.
And it gave him the words he needed. “You learned to make peace with what’s inside you. I need you to give me that same chance. Quit running away.”
“I can’t.” Fire spent, she touched her hands to his—and then slid out of his grasp. Lithe and graceful, she moved out of reach, into a beam of light reaching through the leaves of the old, gnarled tree that guarded his front stoop.
He watched from the shadows. Her hands trembled. And even in pain, she sought the light. Heat.
He walked down and took a seat under the tree.
She clenched her fists once—and then sank to the unkempt ground, still wrapped in a sunbeam. Slowly, she settled her chin on her knees. And then she spoke. “My mother has an unusual and sporadic kind of magic. A form of precognition. She sees glimpses of the future.”
Daniel leaned into the tree at his back and tried to remember he lived on planet Earth.
“Some aren’t true. What she sees doesn’t always happen.”
But Retha had seen something. And whatever it was had Nell Sullivan ready to kick him to the curb. The leash on his temper strained. “You’re getting rid of me for something I haven’t done yet and might never do?”
Confusion hit her eyes—and then frustrated sorrow. “No. It’s not you.” Nell took a deep breath. “She says I will have a child. A very powerful, very magical child. The strongest witch in generations.”
He tried to wrap his head around magic that could see the future. And then forgot all about that as he connected the rest of the messy, nasty dots. The leash snapped. “And what, I’m not daddy material for the next Merlin?”
She winced as if he’d hit her. And then her fury rose to meet his. “Nobody is. Do you know when my mother told me all of this?”
He gritted his teeth as energy swirled, determined to hold his ground in a firestorm.
“Two hours ago.” She was on her feet now, a warrior looking for a fight. “She saw this child-who-will-be on the day I was born—and for twenty-seven years, she didn’t tell me.”
He wasn’t following, but Retha Sullivan’s love for her children was blindingly obvious. “Maybe she was trying to protect you.”
“Of course she was,” Nell hissed at him through gritted teeth. “She knew this would trash my life. And you know what? She was right.”
Some key piece of this was still failing him. “You don’t want a baby with that kind of power?”
“No one would.” Her voice ached—with what, he didn’t know. “Magic is dangerous. It’s not all parlor tricks and stupid brother practical jokes. A child with that kind of power will be at awful risk every day of their life.” Breath rasped from her lungs. “Every single day.”
A spike punctured his lungs. It was a burden he couldn’t begin to fathom. He got to his feet and reached for her, seeking to hold. Protect. Anything.
And wrapped around air as she pushed away. He felt something rip inside him. “You don’t think I could handle that. If it happened.”
She met his eyes now. “I’m the strongest witch of my generation. You can’t handle me.” Her voice wavered. “And I couldn’t handle it alone.”
Time froze, an agony of pain, horror, and not-quite-enough trust.
And then she turned to go. Watching her walk away, one quiet foot in front of the other, was the loneliest thing he’d ever seen.
Daniel tore in two, instincts screeching at his walloped heart. And let her go. For now.
Chapter 19
Nell wandered listlessly onto the baseball diamond. Fire power had deserted her miles ago, along with anything that remotely resembled the will to fight back against the forces pounding her life into smithereens.
She spied an old, dusty ball in the dirt behind second base and picked it up. It looked about as bedraggled as she felt.
“Need a catcher?”
She spun around at the strange voice behind her, squinting into the sun. The sunny, gentle feel of his mind clued her in first. “Pedro, right? The terminally injured second baseman?”
He stepped out of the sun’s rays, smiling. “Yup. Ankle’s all better.”
A spark of humor found its way through the wet, gray blanket smothering her soul. “You must have excellent nurses.”
“Something like that.” He walked over to shortstop and held up his hands.
She tossed the ball, a soft lob that had him grinning. He returned it at a much sharper speed. The sting in her fingers felt good. She settled into the easy rhythm of throw and catch. “How come you’re wandering around deserted baseball diamonds?”
“I was on the hunt for a miserable first baseman, but it looks like I found an unhappy witch instead.”
The incoming ball nearly took out her nose. Nell ducked and backhanded it, glaring. “What am I, the talk of the locker room?” She knew it was wrong as soon as the words came out. Pedro’s mind beamed the same loyalty and love she’d always read in Sammy’s. Best friends, then.
He didn’t answer. Just kept fielding her throws and tossing them back.
She didn’t want to let the temper go—it made her feel more human. “Sorry. I’m cranky, and you were dumb enough to walk over here.”
His lips twitched. “Duly noted.”
Back and forth the ball went, her body beginning to feel its attachment to earth and sky again. Baseball therapy.
“He’s not talking.” Pedro spoke casually, eyes on the ball. “But he’s at least as cranky as you are.”
That didn’t make her feel any better. “He’ll get over it.”
“Probably. He’s a pretty resilient guy.”
She shot him a look, the kind she used to keep her little brothers in line.
He grinned. “One day soon, I should introduce you to my little sister, Becky. She’s got great glares too.”
Dammit, she’d tossed the man to the curb. The last thing she needed to be doing right now was falling in like with his friends. “Look, it’s complicated and I can’t really explain it to Daniel or anyone else in a way that will make sense. But magic comes with baggage, and sometimes the cost is really high. It’s not his job to pay it.”
Pedro snorted. “Gee, where have I heard that before?”
Huh? Nell frowned, not understanding the sudden edge in his mind. They weren’t talking about her and Daniel anymore. “Sorry, not following.”
Pedro walked over and took a seat on second base. He looked up in her direction. “I love a woman who carries a gun.”
A cop. Nell flinched. Magic wasn’t the only life with a high price.
“She gave me that same line.” He traced circles in the dirt with his finger. “Told me it was hers to c
arry, and I should go find some nice safe girl and make nice safe babies.”
He hadn’t left his cop—she could read it in his thoughts and in the steady love shining from his eyes. “Guess it didn’t work, huh?”
“Nope.” He waited a beat. “It won’t work with Daniel, either. He’ll be back once he works off some of his temper.”
Her insides clenched. “I don’t want him to come back.”
“Bullshit.” Pedro looked up and grinned. “That’s an official psychological diagnosis.”
Jeebers. Meddling apparently wasn’t the exclusive domain of witches. “Aren’t you supposed to talk to people gently on couches or something?”
He laughed, the kind of easy, low roll that told her a lot about how he’d survive life at the side of a woman armed and dangerous. “The people who most need my advice tend to avoid the couch.”
Yup. Class A meddler. She was fond of him already. Nell scowled, mostly for form.
“I don’t know what your life holds any more than I know that for Chloe.” Pedro’s eyes were suddenly sharp and intent. “But I’m guessing witches don’t walk alone any more than cops do.”
He was a damn good guesser. She nodded, looking at all the interlocking circles he’d drawn in the dirt.
Pedro dropped the ball in the center of one of the circles and stood up. “If I had to have anyone at my back or at my side, it would be him.”
-o0o-
Riding in circles had to be a pretty decent definition of crazy. Daniel had passed the basketball court twice, the pool hall three times, and he’d cycled past the Sullivan house too many times to count.
Clearly he was a guy looking for trouble. And one having a hell of a time waiting for a pissy witch to come to her senses.
He turned down the alleyway, annoyed with himself and seriously steamed at the world. And nearly rode down an old guy in a straw hat. Pebbles sprayed as he jammed on his breaks, narrowly missing the fence and one very displeased cat. “Shit, sorry about that. You okay?”
The straw hat tilted up, revealing amused eyes underneath.
