Fire Fall (Old School Book 4)

by Jenny Schwartz

  What did her ex-boyfriend have to do with anything? “So it’s a good thing you were there. The boy could have set fire to the forest.”

  “Doesn’t it bother you, that people react to me more like a snarling guard dog than a person?”

  Her head jerked back. “What?”

  “Look around.”

  She looked around again at the crowded scene. It was busy and happy, tables filled with people…filled with people, but no one had asked her and Seth to share their large table and benches.

  “People avoid me,” he said. “You like people. You’re sociable and—”

  She reached across the table and touched his hand. “I’m not relentlessly sociable. I like being here with you, being part of this scene, but I wouldn’t have wanted to be crowded by strangers any more than you would.” She sat back, reaching for her nearly empty milkshake to have something to do with her suddenly awkward hands. “I don’t think of you as a guard dog, either.” She forced a smile. “Guard dogs don’t sing. They howl.”

  He stared at her for a long moment in the muted lighting of strung fairy lights. Then his shoulders relaxed. “Do you want another milkshake?”

  “No.” She sucked the last of it, then they left.

  At the cabin, Seth walked around the yard while Vanessa showered—much like a guard dog on patrol, he thought wryly. But she said she didn’t see him that way, as a vicious protector. He would protect her, he’d kill or die for her, but he wanted to be more than that to her. It was a difficult situation. She was recovering from the trauma of her kidnapping and she could latch onto him as her protector. If she did, he was scared that he would accept any excuse, any role, to be part of her life.

  That morning, breaking camp, he hadn’t even realized he was singing till she questioned it. He’d simply been happy, at peace.

  He would have been happier waking up with her, but knowing she was close was enough. For now.

  Three years ago he’d recognized his attraction to her, and walked away because she was already involved with Frank Patel. But if Patel had been fool enough to let her go—

  Why had he?

  Seth returned to the cabin.

  Vanessa had left a candle burning in the window. By mutual agreement, they’d left the generator off. They both had torches, and she’d carried a lamp into the bathroom.

  “Your turn.” She walked down the stairs from the loft, barefoot, wearing short cotton pajamas. She looked cute and sleepy.

  Sexy as hell.

  “Thanks,” he said too gruffly. She smelled of soap and woman as he brushed past her, headed for his own shower.

  “Hot chocolate.” She offered him a mug of the sweet drink when he returned to the living room. “I’m craving milk.”

  “That’s common after a long hike,” he said. She hadn’t made the hot chocolate too sweet. He tasted spices in it, too. It was comforting.

  Even better was joining her on the sofa.

  “Why did you split up with Patel?”

  She glanced at him, evidently startled by his question. The soft arches of her eyebrows rose.

  He had no right to ask the question, and he wondered if she’d refuse to answer it.

  The candle flickered on the windowsill, the flame dancing in some furtive current of air.

  “Frank and I knew each other all our lives. His older sister went to Minervalle School, same as me. His parents and my dad are friends. I thought that meant he knew who I was. The world thinks I don’t work. That I’m a socialite heiress.”

  She was currently wearing her hair in two short braids tied with ribbon, like a seven year old.

  He smiled. “You’re so much more than that.”

  “You’re right. But it’s a good cover story for how much time I spend coordinating the Old School network. Frank…started to resent that time. He wanted me to graduate from socialite heiress to perfect corporate wife.”

  “Ah.” Idiot, Seth thought of the man who hadn’t appreciated the woman in his life.

  Vanessa shrugged. “I can understand Frank wanting a corporate wife, someone to support him. Business is tough.”

  “No question there.” Seth could afford to be agreeable because he’d never be such an idiot as Frank. The guy, and his memory, were no competition.

  She sipped her hot chocolate, then licked at her milk moustache. “But I wasn’t going to give up my dreams to feed his. And he wouldn’t compromise. I found myself sidelining my interests to meet his demands. I protected my work with the Old School, but everything else got squashed around the edges of my relationship with Frank—and then, he started hinting that I step back from the Old School.”

  “So you stepped back from him, instead,” Seth said, satisfied.

  She stared at him as if he’d said something profound. “Yes.”

  “You wanted a partner and he wanted a consort.”

  She giggled. “A consort? But you’re not wrong. Frank wanted a woman who’d bolster his career.” She curled up, cradling her mug of hot chocolate, looking out the window.

  “What do you want?” He set his mug aside.

  She didn’t look at him, but she had to be aware that his questions revealed his personal interest in her; in the possibility of a relationship between them. She could shut that down now, or she could invite the possibility.

  His muscles tensed as she considered her answer.

  At last, she sighed. “I want a man who wants all of me. Not just the socialite or a sexy body or my wealth or social connections or me doing all the emotional work that keeps us communicating and the relationship healthy. I want him to tease me when I’m grumpy and laugh with me when I’m happy, have sex because it’s fun for both of us, share his dreams, trust me with his demons. I want him to love me. I’m independent, and he’ll be independent, but the life we build together will be the most important thing for both of us.”

  He took her empty mug, setting it aside. “How does a man sign up to be considered for the position?”

  Her breath shuddered and he sensed that she was as nervous as him.

  “I guess he could try kissing me?”

  “Like a prince in a fairytale?” He leaned forward.

  She put a hand on his chest, not to stop him, but as a gentle caress. “Like a man who believes in love.”

  And there was the true heart of what she wanted: to be loved, and to have the love she offered respected. Treasured.

  “I believe in love,” he whispered.

  Desire and delight spiraled through Vanessa as Seth hovered over her. Through her hand on his chest, she could feel his heart beating heavily. He’d braced himself over her. There was no weight, no cage…no demand. Only, he kissed her with hope and aching promise. His lips were warm and smooth, gliding against hers; coaxing her to respond.

  It was a seduction and so much more.

  Her fingers curled in his t-shirt, and he seemed to take that as a signal. He lifted her as he lay back on the sofa. It was long enough for him to stretch out and to cuddle her over him. She was free to end the kiss at any time, but until she did, his hand ran the length of her spine, caressing and claiming. His other hand cupped the back of her head, holding her tenderly for his kiss.

  The flavor of him was hot chocolate and male desire, rich and drugging.

  It could have escalated. Experiencing the tenderness of a strong man was a powerful aphrodisiac. Vanessa felt protected and desired. She was safe to simply be in the moment, to let all the everyday tensions go to enjoy one tension, the thrilling demand of passion.

  She was free because Seth kept the intensity contained.

  Finally, he guided her head down to his shoulder and she lay there, luxuriating in their closeness, soothed yet kept simmering by the slow caress of his hand on the small of her back.

  There was no need for words.

  Chapter 4

  Vanessa smiled as Seth touched her shoulder, silently pointing to a deer and its fawn across the plateau. Wildflowers and a clear blue sky framed th
e perfect picture. Since their kisses last night, he’d been taking these opportunities to touch her. Hiking the Rocky Mountains wasn’t exactly conducive to caresses and seduction, but he was finding a way. His small touches said, I’m here. I care. Each touch set her skin tingling.

  They’d driven much further today before leaving the car and hiking even further south west. After two hours of steady progress, they were on a trail so neglected that the map barely marked it. They’d also left the smell of smoke behind. They’d listened to the warning on the radio while driving. The active forest fire was over a hundred miles away, but the wind had carried its smoke warning, the fear of a holocaust, until on climbing higher, the air cleared.

  Vanessa gasped and stopped.

  Seth instantly turned to her.

  “I’m okay.” She breathed deeply, trying to push down her light-headedness.

  He eased off her pack and uncapped her water bottle.

  “Thanks,” she nodded vaguely, and sat on the ground while her pulse raced. “Altitude sickness, I guess.” She felt sweat break out, as if she had a fever. “I’ve never had altitude sickness before.”

  His frown narrowed his eyes and thinned his lips. He seemed angry as well as concerned. “Perhaps you don’t have it now.”

  “Pardon?” She went to put down her water bottle, and tipped it over instead.

  He caught it up before more than a mouthful spilled, and re-capped it; handing it back to her. “This could be a look-away spell. A violent one.”

  “Oh.” She rubbed her chest where her heart felt as if it was fluttering. “Panic attack?” Because of how high they’d climbed, she’d thought of altitude sickness, but this actually felt more like a panic attack. She’d read up on them after her kidnapping, just so she’d recognize the symptoms if she suffered one.

  “Let’s get you away from here. We’ll stay at the same altitude for a few minutes—unless you’re feeling really bad?”

  “I’m fine.” Freaked out by my own body’s actions, but I’ll survive. She wanted answers as much as Seth. If this was a spell…well, she wanted to kick the ass of whoever had set it.

  He attached her pack to his with swift efficiency; so swift that she only noticed belatedly, and far too late for her protest to have any effect.

  “You carry your water bottle, and tell me if any of your symptoms change.”

  Her comment that a single bottle was hardly a fair split of their burdens died unsaid when she saw the depth of concern in his eyes. She took the offer of his hand to help her up, and held on for another few seconds. “Maybe we’ve found Josh.”

  Seth refused to respond to her determined positivity. “I didn’t think the look-away spell would be so violent.”

  “It could just be altitude sickness.”

  “Huh.”

  They retraced their steps until the trail started heading down from the plateau. Then he paused and studied her face and stance. “How are you feeling?”

  “Better. Which I wouldn’t be, not so fast, if it was altitude sickness.”

  He nodded, and cast an angry look back to where she’d suddenly collapsed. “I need to try my scrying spell inside the barrier of the look-away spell.”

  “Is that safe?” she asked, involuntarily. It might be why he was here, but he wasn’t the only person in this partnership who could worry about the other person.

  “You’ll be fine,” he said, misunderstanding. “I’ll walk down with you to the pine trees. There’s a stream nearby. It’s a good place for a camp.”

  She punched his arm, not enough to hurt. “I’m asking about you!”

  “Oh.” He stared at her blankly.

  She rolled her eyes. “I can set up camp, but what if Josh or whoever is with him has other, more dangerous spells set up?”

  “I’ll destroy them.” He spoke so nonchalantly, as if chasing evil wizards was an everyday occurrence.

  Then again, given his employment with the Stag Agency, it probably was.

  “Okay.” She walked down the trail with him, toward the cover of the pine trees. “How long should I wait before I worry about you?”

  He grinned and rubbed her shoulder. “I’ll be back before it’s dark.”

  An owl hooted. The night was cold and dark, and Vanessa was alone. She had her tent up and her sleeping bag unrolled, but she couldn’t settle. “Where are you, Seth?”

  He’d said to wait for him. He hadn’t anticipated not returning.

  It would be incredibly foolish to go after him at night. The moon was up, and she could see, but far from perfectly. The ground could have holes dug by small animals, rocks could turn under her feet, and she couldn’t use a flashlight. Anyone could track her progress if she showed a light. The sensible thing to do would be to wait for him at camp.

  She found a pencil and scribbled on a map. “Looking for you. Will return to where I felt sick.” She left the note on her sleeping bag, pinned in place with her flashlight. Then she crawled back out of her tent, shrugged her diminished pack onto her back—water, food, first aid kit, change of clothes—and set off up the mountain.

  All logic told her that the best way—the only way—she could help Seth was to remain where he’d told her to stay. But something deeper than logic, an instinct that warned her of danger and grief, drove her on.

  The symptoms of sickness started soon.

  Her pulse rate increased, she started sweating despite the cool night air, and as she approached the site where she’d collapsed earlier, vertigo sent her staggering. She slowed her pace and concentrated fiercely.

  Look-away spells were usually subtle things that urged mundanes—people like her, which was most of the population—to simply find somewhere else to be. They grew abruptly disinterested or remembered something else they had to do, or else they simply felt uneasy and move away. Occasionally a look-away spell birthed legends of haunted houses or castles. But on this plateau, whoever had designed the look-away spell had gone far beyond such spells’ usual parameters.

  Violent, Seth had called it.

  But violence could be countered by determination and skill.

  Vanessa was counting on the look-away spell adhering to one paramount principle of such constructions: they were passive. Moreover, given the violence of this look-away spell, the wizard who’d set it wouldn’t expect any mundane to resist its repelling force and penetrate it.

  If I break through—when I break through—no one will know. The spell might have an inner barrier spell set to alert someone to a magical intruder, but she was mundane. I’ll be a ghost, a phantom of justice. No one will expect the Mundane Avenger.

  Her giggle turned into a gasp for air, and she seriously considered whether to continue staggering on or drop to her knees and crawl. Which would be safer?

  The look-away spell vanished with an almost physical release. She stumbled a few steps before she found her balance. Gradually, her body calmed. Her breathing eased and her pulse steadied.

  What now? She’d been so intent on combatting the repelling force of the look-away spell that she hadn’t considered how she would track Seth. Where would he have gone? Would he have stayed on the trail, faint though it was? She hoped with everything in her that his problem was a safe one. A broken leg would be preferable. As awkward and painful as that would be, it was something she could handle. If Seth had encountered another wizard…

  But he said he could activate a null-space, whatever that is. Doesn’t it mean he can move undetected?

  Undetected by magic! Understanding crashed through Vanessa. Seth had been prepared for magical defenses, but what if the plateau was monitored with mundane technology?

  Then they’ll have seen me.

  Panic flooded her, as powerfully sickening as the look-away spell. But she had a knife in an ankle sheath and a semi-automatic pistol in her pack. Minervalle School had taught all its girls how to fight, and after her kidnapping, Vanessa had renewed her training.

  “Underestimate me,” she whispered as she go
t out the pistol, put an extra clip in her pocket, and re-shouldered her pack. She walked on cautiously.

  Throughout the mountains predators were hunting. Bats flew after insects. Coyotes scavenged bears’ kills.

  “I am not prey.”

  The plateau dropped, the ground becoming uneven and visibility interrupted by spruce and low-growing shrubs.

  When she saw the campfire—so wrong when wildfires threatened the forest—she moved slowly. Distance and darkness made it hard to trust her eyes. It seemed as if there were two men: one standing and one sitting. Which was Seth? Was either of them him?

  She forced herself to look away. It wasn’t just a spell that could distract. The small campfire was its own beacon, and it pulled attention away from the environment. If she concentrated on it, anyone could circle around and catch her unawares.

  Not happening. She consciously relaxed her grip on the pistol. She needed to be ready to react, to defend herself and, possibly, Seth.

  Closer and closer she crept, hiding in the shadows of trees and shrubs and rocky outcrops. She shrugged out of her pack and lowered it silently to the ground, leaving it behind a tall spruce. She was close enough now to recognize Seth’s silhouette.

  He was the one seated.

  What bothered her was how the other man loomed over him. There was threat and violence in his movements, and the wind brought her snatches of his conversation.

  “You will tell me. There’s more than magic in the world. You taught me that.”

  The man knew Seth! Knew and hated him. The hate sounded in his voice.

  Breathe. Think clearly, she instructed herself.

  Seth had described the mission impersonally, but for this man—Seth’s captor—it seemed that the situation was personal.

  That could help them. Making a situation personal could lead to reckless decisions and general carelessness. Something I have to guard against.

  The man had set up camp in a clearing, a wide clearing.

  Vanessa hadn’t detected anyone else with him, so it was him against her, but she was a poor shot. Even with a semi-automatic, she needed to be closer. If this guy had captured Seth, he was dangerously competent. She’d have one chance, and one chance only.