by Michele Hauf
“That might be a good idea.” He leaned over the counter and met her lips with a kiss that tasted like chocolate frosting. “Sorry I didn’t find anything for you in the spell books. We paged through most of them. You’ll have to bring them back to your friends. Or I could drop them off on the way home.”
“No, I can keep them awhile. I want to look through the one Geneva brought. It’s one of the oldest and is filled with ancient magic.”
“Which one was that?”
“It’s got a red cover and gold foiling. Very elaborate. Did you look in any of the living grimoires?”
“Are those the ones that have pictures that move and put out scents? Yes. A little creepy, but kind of cool too. I couldn’t activate any of those spells by reading them to Peanut, could I?”
“Definitely not. I hope we find something.”
“Mireio.” He clasped her hand and pulled her around the counter to stand between his legs. Bowing his forehead to the crown of her head, he swallowed, then bracketed her jaws with his hands and tilted her gaze to meet his. “I’m dying, sweetie. You and I both have to accept that. It could be in a few months like the doctor predicted. It could be years. No man ever really knows when he’ll take his last breath. Let’s live in the now, okay?”
Chin wobbling, she staunchly defeated the need to break out into a wail. “But you said I could try another spell. Have you changed your mind?”
“No. But I don’t want you getting upset if you can’t find anything in those dusty old books.”
She stepped back and said defiantly, “And what would Peanut say if he could speak?”
“What do you mean?”
“He’d say he wants his daddy around for a long time and that no matter what he should never stop trying.”
Lars swiped his hands over his face. The nervous beard swipe ended in a squeeze of his fist. “You can’t change what nature intended.”
“I will!”
“I’m not going to let you sacrifice—” Lars grabbed the diaper bag sitting on the floor behind him. “I should get going. When Peanut wakes, he’ll need a diaper change.”
“Sacrifice what?” she asked as he tromped into the living room to gather up the baby things, along with the baby.
“It’s nothing. You do too much for me, is all. You make sacrifices.”
“Nothing I don’t want to do. You know I would do anything for you, Lars.”
Baby and supplies in hand, he hustled toward the front door.
“Why are you in such a hurry to leave? Are you mad at me?”
He stopped on the threshold and turned with Peanut clutched to his chest and the diaper bag over a shoulder. The baby’s face skewed into a pre-cry twist.
The man’s jaw tensed but he shook his head. “Sorry. I’m...having a weird moment, I guess. I’m not mad at you. But I don’t like to talk about...this. You know?”
She nodded, understanding. The man was dying. He knew that. No need to constantly remind him. “Can I still come over tomorrow? For the rain?”
“Just for the rain?” He managed a wobbly smile.
“And you, of course. But mostly the rain. I need to recharge.”
“I can’t wait to find out what that means. Come here.” He nodded because his arms were full. “I’ll see you soon. And bring me the rest of the cupcakes, yes?”
“Of course.” She tilted herself up on her tiptoes and barely managed to brush his lips with a kiss because he didn’t want to bend too far and crush Peanut. She kissed the infant’s head, which stopped what could have become a loud wail. “See you later, Charlie.”
“The name is growing on me,” he said.
“Me too. See you later, lover!”
As soon as Lars was out of the driveway, Mireio dodged into the living room and scanned the stack of books. He’d been trying to hide one with a blue leather cover. And he’d done it so obviously, as if he were up to something. What was in that book he hadn’t wanted her to see?
Chapter 22
Mireio laid her hands on the various grimoires stacked on the floor, trying to sense a lingering remnant of Lars’s touch. On one, she immediately felt his gentle warmth, and she opened it and paged through. It was the grimoire dedicated specifically to women. This one he must have explored with more than a little discomfort.
Setting that volume aside, she sat on the floor, legs stretched before her, and caught her weight on her palms behind her. “What is he trying to hide from me?”
She lay back and decided it had been months since she’d dusted the ceiling lamp that dangled with purple crystals. Sighing, she turned her head to the side. A book under the couch? And so far under.
“Well, well, well, what’s that?” Something like that couldn’t have possibly been an accident. It had to have been pushed under there.
Reaching under, she slid out the thin volume bound in blue. “Valor’s great-grandma Hector’s grimoire.”
She knew it from the family crest on the inside front page. That witch was still alive. Mireio had no idea what she was up to lately, but she and Valor had been close because she’d raised her granddaughter. So many witches had been raised by their grandmothers. It almost seemed the norm as opposed to an exception. Hector Hearst had also practiced dark magic on occasion, so what was compressed between the covers of this grimoire gave Mireio a warning tingle.
Had that same warning frightened Lars, someone unfamiliar with the intricacies and dangers of magic? That would have been enough to make him skittish and try to shove the book as far away as possible.
Hmm, that didn’t convince her that he hadn’t read something inside, which could have also freaked him.
Paging through, she marveled at the ornamental designs and elaborate writings. Some pages were blank. She knew those spells could only be activated with blood magic. That was definitely dark magic.
“Oh.” She turned a page and her finger came away sticky. It was... “Blood? But how...?”
How had he known to activate a page with his blood? Impossible. He must have cut himself on the paper. But the spell title took her breath away: “To Dissuade Death.”
“Oh, my goddess, this could be it. The spell that could save his life.”
She quickly read the incantation and the ingredients. All of it was easily obtainable, and it promised to dissuade death. And to her, dissuade meant to stop it.
“Did he read this spell? Is this really his blood? Why wouldn’t he say something to me?”
And then she tapped one of the words on the ingredient list that was stained pink: immortality. The witch performing the spell was required to sacrifice her immortality as the final ingredient.
If she went through with the spell she’d been angsting about lately, she’d have to give up that newly won immortality to save her lover. And she knew damn well the last thing Lars would ever ask of her was such a sacrifice.
She closed the book. What to do? The answer was simple.
“It’s not a sacrifice for someone you love.”
* * *
With Peanut-Maybe-Charlie down for an afternoon nap, Lars set the baby monitor on top of the outdoor closet that contained his beekeeping equipment and then approached the hives. He wasn’t going to check them today. He’d done that three days ago. Disturbing the bees overmuch wasn’t good for their productivity.
Since ancient times people had been telling the bees their good news, their bad news, about their celebrations and also about their family deaths. It was a tradition that Lars had started a few years ago when he’d needed someone to talk to. He always landed in a different place by putting his thoughts, fears, dreams and emotions out there by telling the bees.
And he needed to do that now.
Wildflowers and grass freshened the air. The sun hung high. And a gentle breeze liste
d through his hair. Spreading out his arms, he tilted back his head and took in the gentle hum from the hives. Their busy noise seemed to vibrate in his veins. The sensation felt like a symphony, and he was humbled by it. A few bees buzzed about his head. Bees wouldn’t sting unless threatened. His bees had yet to sting him.
“Bless you for your hard, endless work and for the gifts you’ve given to me” was always how he began.
Standing straight and putting his hands down, palms facing the hives, he mentally reached in and put his heart out before him. “My life has been filled with some ups and downs lately. Some really awesome ups.” Thinking about the past weeks with Mireio put a huge smile on his face. “You may have noticed the witch who comes here all the time. I love her.”
It was the first time he’d said that out loud other than suggesting he couldn’t say it, even though he wanted to, to Mireio. Because to give it to her in words? He didn’t want to break that vow when he died.
“And she loves me, which is some kind of awesome. She also loves Peanut. I’m thinking his name should be Charlie. It’s a good name. I have to remember to run down to city hall next week to fill out a change for the birth record. So there’s the up. Love is indescribable. It’s like I can’t breathe without thinking about her. She keeps me alive.”
He caught a palm over his chest. If only it were so easy to stay alive.
“And then there’s the down.” He rubbed his jaw, stroking his beard tentatively. “I’ve been struggling with this stupid death sentence. Damn! Why did this have to happen now when I’ve found the one I want to spend every day with for the rest of my life? A life that is supposed to end soon, rather than later. I can feel it in my bones. I haven’t told Mireio. I ache all the time. My fingers and toes always tingle. But I can function and hide it most of the time. It’s as if I’m being eaten up from the inside out. And I don’t want to get to a point where I’m frail and incapable. I...couldn’t bear that. Me. The big guy who’s always been strong enough to push a tree over with but a shove.”
He knelt then because it felt right to honor the bees that way, and telling all this was difficult and his voice subtly shook. “And my wolf. I feel as if I’ve lost that part of me. Yet when it comes on me without my volition it feels like a punishment for not being able to control myself. I wish... I wish I could understand this. I wish my father was here so I could talk to him. Ask him questions. Learn from him. Why do we die like this?”
He’d not known at the time what had taken his father from him. Only that it had hurt his child’s heart like no physical injury ever had. And when he’d most needed his mother to wrap him in her arms and tell him the world would not end and life would go on, she had fled the pack, never to be seen again. It had taken years for Lars to forgive her. He knew she hadn’t known any other way to handle her grief. Or at least, he hoped that was what had allowed her to abandon her son without a look back over her shoulder.
“What should I do? I need guidance. I want... I think I want to leap. To take life and rip it to shreds and live every moment. But then I’ve a little boy to take care of. I want the best for him. And Mireio. Do I dare? Can I? What should I do?”
Catching his palms in the grass before the hives, he listened as the bees flew out en masse and formed a swirling cloud above his head.
Straightening, Lars lifted his arms and closed his eyes, taking in the flutter of thousands of wings against his hair and skin. They had never responded this way before. And he sensed what they wanted him to know.
He needed to leap. Be damned, the fall.
Chapter 23
Mireio set the plate of cupcakes on the table, which caught Lars’s eye. He had been making the bed when she wandered into the cabin with a cheery “Hello!” She had no intention of discussing the spell she’d discovered in Hector Hearst’s grimoire. It could wait. Until she had a solid plan.
It had started raining as she’d driven the winding tree-lined road up to the cabin, and her skin absolutely tingled in anticipation of her plans.
“A dozen left for you,” she said, licking a smear of chocolate buttercream from her thumb. “Where’s Peanut?”
“Sunday has him. I wanted it to be just us tonight.” He winked, then shoved a pillow into the case. “So what’s up with your plans for the rain?”
“I’ve come to renew. I am a water witch,” she said as she unbuttoned her red short-sleeved blouse. Drawing her fingers down to her cleavage, she eyed him through her lashes. Darting her tongue along her upper lip seemed an appropriate tease. “I have needs.”
“Needs?” He tossed the pillow behind him without a care. The man could work the overalls and wrinkled T-shirt. And talk about dimple overload. Goddess, he looked sexy tonight. His gaze aimed for her bust, barely contained by the red lace bra. “Any sort of needs I might be able to assist you with?”
“Not really.” She draped the blouse over the back of a chair before the kitchen table, then shimmied down her skirt to land about her four-inch plaid heels.
“Then you’ve really got me confused.” He pulled her closer by her hips and bent to dust the ends of his hair over the tops of her breasts.
She cooed with desire and stroked his beard. “Mmm, hold that thought for a bit, will you? I intend to go out in the rain and draw in its power. Revive and reinvigorate my water magic. I can’t do it so often at my place because, while my backyard is private, you know Mrs. Henderson and her sketch pad.”
“That I do. You think she’s ever sketched a naked witch?”
“I hope not!” She giggled as he moved up and licked under her chin. His hair was what tickled, and yet it also set her skin on fire with desire. “Give me an hour to take it all in.”
“An hour out in the rain? And...in your underthings?”
“Not exactly.”
She reached behind her back and unhooked her bra, then let it slide off. When she stuck her fingers under the waistband of her panties, Lars put his hands over hers and helped her slide them down, slowly, his face moving over her stomach, his breaths drawing up the goose bumps on her skin. He knelt before her, breathing heavily at her mons.
“I said you have to wait. Can you manage that, wolf? I don’t want to miss the rain. It’s only supposed to fall for a couple hours.”
He pouted up at her.
She stepped out of her shoes and bent to kiss the top of his head. He cupped her breasts as she did so. A squeeze of both her nipples did not make her want to step outside into the rain, especially since the night was beginning to cool off.
“You’re cheating,” she said with an admonishing wave of her finger. She snapped upright and marched to the door. “Maybe all I need is half an hour. Eat some cupcakes, why don’t you?”
“Can I watch?” he called as she stepped outside.
“I can’t stop you, but it’ll be weird if you do. You’ll know when it’s cool to come outside and find me.”
Still kneeling on the floor, he saluted her, then reached for a cupcake.
* * *
Arms spread, head tilted back and eyes closed, Mireio called on the rain to embrace, baptize and renew her. She whispered an ancient chant that her grandmother had taught her. One that spoke to the water elementals that clung to the raindrops and that flittered among the soaked grasses. The water skittered over her skin, gliding and teasing and infusing its wild and vibrant energies into her.
Her body hummed with power. And she felt her smile grow as she flicked her fingers and snapped away the rain droplets. And with each bend and flick of her fingers she controlled the drops, sending them spraying out in a fan, and then an arc that coiled above her head and performed a rain dance for her, the master.
She liked to think of rain as a direct infusion of star stuff. Because that’s what everything was anyway. Ancient and ever alive, the soul never faded as it journeyed through the a
ges. And perhaps this rain was the same that had fallen on her bare skin centuries earlier as she’d performed much the same spell. It was a nice thought, and she truly believed it.
Her ritual ended by crafting a water cage sphere around her. It was her way of sealing her commitment to water magic. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Lars standing close.
“Sorry,” he offered. “I couldn’t resist watching. You’re more beautiful than anything I can put to words. And your magic is incredible.”
She swept her hand through a swath of the water cage before her, which opened a door. Then she crooked her finger at him, welcoming him inside her haven.
“Really?” he asked.
She nodded. “But you gotta get naked first.”
“I can do that.”
She was pretty sure no man had ever shucked off his clothing so quickly. Never would she tire of admiring his muscles and long sculpted body. The rain misted his skin, tightening her nipples as she thought about how fun it was going to be to lick the moisture from his hard lines. Padding through the squishy wet grass, he looked over the rain cage first before carefully stepping inside.
“Don’t worry—it’s strong. Only I can break it,” she said.
“You’re more than a witch.” He pulled her slick body against his. “You’re a goddess.”
“Flattery will get you anything you desire, lover. Mmm... I think we need a bed to lie on.” She swept her hand and produced a knee-high flat surface fashioned from water.
Testing it with a palm, Lars flashed her a look of awe. “Can we really sit on this?”
“Lie down and try it out.”
He did, and his body almost stretched to both sides of the cage, so, in complete control of her magic, Mireio teased the sphere a bit wider with a push of her hands outward.
She climbed onto the bed. Straddling Lars, she lifted her wet hair and splayed it out, commanding it to dry, so by the time it fell the red coiled curls brushed her cheeks softly. Inside the sphere they would be protected from the rain, which had picked up again. Not that she minded a lot of wet.
