My Favorite Witch

by Lisa Plumley

  “Mate?” Sumner’s eyebrows rose as a dawning horror crept from her to him. “Ugh. Neal, don’t tell me you’re a Patayan.”

  Lifting his head, T.J. stared at her. He knew exactly the moment when the truth struck her. Her gaze traveled over his face, slipped to his cleft chin…then held. She froze.

  Disdain rolled from her in waves. It battered him the way it had when he’d been a boy on the res, before he’d learned to control himself and his magic. As a child, he’d been wounded by scorn like hers. Now, he scarcely felt a prick of pain. He was hardened, just like his magus had said. He was a rock—impervious to hurt.

  Except when it came to betrayal. But he didn’t care enough about Sumner to let her inside him. No one had come that close to him in years. Except maybe his bonded witch…

  “You’re a compound.” Sumner sneered at him, her voice filled with contempt. “I can’t believe I didn’t notice.”

  T.J. could. His appearance charm was impenetrable. He’d worked a long time to make it so. The only reason Sumner could discern his compound status at all was because he hadn’t bothered to disguise it. It would have required too much magic to conceal something so fundamentally a part of him.

  Trying another tactic, he smiled. Remembering her interest in him earlier, he touched her again. “You were…distracted.”

  “Maybe. But not anymore. This was a waste of time.” With a jerk of her head, Sumner gathered up her overflowing shopping bags. “Have fun acting all superior to the rest of us, half-breed. Because acting is all you’ll ever have. Losers.”

  “Ouch.” T.J. grabbed his chest. “Now that hurt.”

  With typical indecisiveness, Sumner paused.

  At that moment, T.J. knew he might still have her.

  Somewhere inside Sumner Jacobs, a sensitive witch still lived—a witch who didn’t want to trample over everyone else, no matter how much she tried to sound as though she did. No matter how much her friends did. No matter how much Covenhaven expected her to. T.J. didn’t want to make the mistake of underestimating her—or letting her leave. Especially if she was the vixen witch he’d been searching for. As of right now, he believed she was.

  Stiffly, Sumner glanced backward. “I’m…sorry. I guess. Whatever. Just don’t follow me around the market, okay? Someone might see us together and come to the wrong conclusion.”

  She glanced around, as though making sure that disaster hadn’t already occurred.

  “I’ll try to stay a safe distance away,” T.J. assured her.

  In response, her posture relaxed a fraction.

  Determined not to smile at his own outrageous piety, T.J. waited a beat. His next move was risky. Especially if he’d misjudged her. He’d done that before—with the Cobalt witch and with Deuce. “You know, if you feel that bad about it, you can always make it up to me.”

  Sumner examined her manicure…but stayed where she was.

  In a deeply bored voice, she asked, “Oh yeah? How?”

  Heartened by that evidence of her hidden softheartedness, T.J. strode forward. “If you’re the vixen witch I think you are, you’re important, Sumner. Vitally important.”

  A smile played around the corners of her mouth. He could tell that Sumner enjoyed feeling special. She enjoyed feeling chosen. T.J. intended to make that work to his advantage.

  “You’re important,” he repeated. “And you can prove it to everyone. Everyone in Covenhaven will remember your name.”

  She bit her lip, then glanced around the market again. This time her expression looked more furtive—and more hopeful—than ever. “Even more than they’ll remember Francesca?”

  Bingo. “Compared to you, Francesca will be a footnote. You’re the one who can make witchstory, Sumner.”

  She stared him down. “I’m not sure I believe you.”

  T.J. shrugged. “When you do, I’ll be here.” He conjured a business card, breathed on it to imprint it with his identity, then handed it to her, fully loaded with magical identifiers. “You can reach me anytime, day or night. When you decide to help me, I’ll come for you.”

  Then, without waiting for her answer, he turned and left the market. In his wake, tiny Patayan flowers bloomed on every cactus he passed…evidence of the hopefulness T.J. suddenly felt and could no longer hide.

  He had his juweel. It had begun.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Stepping out of the Covenhaven Library with a loaded backpack and an armful of witchcraft books she could scarcely carry, Dayna stared at her surroundings with surprise.

  Sometime while she’d been inside, the Covenhaven farmers’ market had sprung up in the parking lot across the street. It appeared to be in full swing, too. Town residents came and went in tandem with tourists, all of them carrying canvas bags full of purchases. Fruits and vegetables and handcrafted wares were piled at every tented stall. Sunshine glinted off an array of turquoise and opal jewelry. Dried leaves from the town’s single oak tree skittered across the street, and the mingled scents of burnt sugar and apples traveled enticingly on the crisp air.

  Mmm. Caramel-dipped apples. Their fragrance transported Dayna instantly to her childhood, making her feel a tiny bit nostalgic for Covenhaven and its traditions. For an outsider like her, that felt like a minor miracle.

  But it was no wonder, she realized as she inhaled deeply. As a little girl, she’d visited the Covenhaven market with her parents whenever the event had been held on the weekend. Back then, she’d savored those delectable apples and spent her allowance on pretty but inexpensive jewelry, while her parents had visited with their neighbors and practiced reining in their magic so they wouldn’t be exposed as witchfolk.

  Escaping detection had been a game with Sam and Margo Sterling, and with their friends. Even though Dayna hadn’t needed to cast shielding charms to keep her magic from giving away her status as a witch, those weekends had been good times for her, too. Unfortunately, she didn’t have time for a trip down memory lane now. She had to get back to Deuce’s apartment and hole up with her books for a serious crash course in witchery.

  Feeling determined to do exactly that, Dayna retraced her steps to the trolley stop she’d arrived from. But she’d only traveled half a block before she reached an obstacle. The street adjacent to the trolley stop also led directly to the farmers’ market, and it had been cordoned off with yellow tape, orange traffic cones, and a police cruiser to prevent gate crashers.

  There would be no trolley arriving at that stop soon.

  With a sigh, Dayna stared up the street, searching for an alternate route. The sound of acoustic guitar music drifted her way from the market, along with children’s laughter. She shaded her eyes with her free hand, then turned in the other direction.

  A lone stop stood there, marked by a trolley sign and occupied by two tourists wearing brand-new cowboy boots.

  She would just have to look at the trolley map and figure out a new route to Deuce’s when she got there. Still hoping for another, closer trolley stop, Dayna readjusted her books and then took one last look around, gazing past the market’s exit.

  Wait a minute. Someone familiar was in that crowd! Filled with curiosity, Dayna looked more closely. She squinted at the people leaving the market, searching for a recognizable face.

  Was it her father? Camille? One of her fellow students from witch class? Professor Reynolds, out for a hit of jalapeño jam?

  Nope. It was T.J.

  It was definitely him. She glimpsed his familiar rugged features, his aquiline nose, his hard jawline. His hair looked tousled, his muscles sleek and strong, his demeanor…

  No way. T.J. actually appeared pleased.

  He strode through a clump of Covenhaven residents with an actual swagger, his shoulders relaxed and confident. A series of cactus flowers bloomed in his wake—unnoticed by most people and utterly out of season—on the succulents he passed. That was weird. Dayna had no idea what those flowers meant…but she hoped, with a jolt of feminine pride, that it had something to do with her and
what they’d shared together this morning.

  Then, as though Dayna were watching T.J. through water, his features…shifted. They rippled, blurred, then realigned.

  When the brief process was complete, a different warlock moved in T.J.’s place. While Dayna gawked, the unknown warlock stepped through the market’s exit. He paused there.

  He glanced at her, his expression alert.

  Startled, Dayna jumped. One of her books slid from the stack in her arms. It thwacked to the ground in a puff of dust.

  A little freaked out by what she’d just seen, she bent to retrieve it. Then she remembered that she was a witch, damn it.

  A real witch would use magic to pick up a fallen book. And a real witch would make the maneuver look cool, too. Drawing in a fortifying breath, Dayna tried to remember the spell she’d muttered to bring her backpack closer this morning. Filled with hopefulness, she uttered the spell’s magical phrasing.

  In response, the fallen book nudged itself an inch sideways. Its cover scraped noisily across the pebbles and dirt on the sidewalk. Dayna focused, then repeated the phrasing.

  Yes! Success at last. The book shot into the air.

  Someone stepped in place beside her and grabbed it.

  “If you’re trying to get arrested,” came a familiar voice, “pulling off irresponsible public magic is a good start.”

  Surprised, Dayna stared. She expected T.J., with an excuse for being himself one minute…and another warlock the next.

  Instead, IAB Head Agent Leo Garmin stood in front of her. With a charming gesture, he offered her the book.

  “Thanks.” Still wondering about T.J., Dayna looked around. She saw no sign of her tracer or the warlock he’d morphed into. She turned her attention to Garmin. “See you around.”

  With no desire to delay her studying any further, she set her Converses in motion. Leo Garmin followed her. He materialized at the next junction in the redbrick sidewalk without taking a single step, then gave her a mocking IAB salute.

  “Nice trick.” It really was impressive. All the same, Dayna stopped in annoyance. “Are you stalking me now?”

  “No, I’m warning you. That was unlicensed magic. You’ve got to watch that, Ms. Sterling. You might get in trouble.”

  “Okay. Thanks for the heads-up. I’ve got to run.”

  She started walking again. Ahead at the trolley stop, the two cowboy-boots-wearing tourists glanced her way.

  “Wait.” Leo Garmin’s hand closed on her upper arm.

  Then it swerved—forcibly—away.

  He frowned. Drawing himself up, Garmin moved to restrain her again. This time Dayna’s golden armlet warmed perceptibly before the IAB agent’s touch ricocheted away from her.

  His scowling gaze met hers. “How did you do that?”

  “I just learned a new stalker deflector spell,” Dayna fibbed, stopping to give him a sardonic grin. “I guess night school for witches is coming in handy already.”

  “I’m not stalking you.” Humorlessly, Garmin peered at her armband. “I saw you leave the library and followed you.”

  “I hate to break it to you, but…that’s stalking.”

  “I was working around the corner on an IAB case.” Garmin rubbed his bald head, then put his hands on his hips in an exasperated pose. “A human murder. It happened last night.”

  “Oh. That’s too bad.” Sobered, Dayna examined him. Today, Leo Garmin appeared weary—but no less authoritative. She guessed that tracking down magical killers took its toll. “Unless things have changed a lot around here, one murder is practically a crime wave in Covenhaven. Do you know who did it yet?”

  Tight-lipped, he shook his head. “That’s why I’m here.”

  Jolted, Dayna frowned. “You don’t think I did it?”

  “No, I think your boyfriend did it.”

  “My…boyfriend?” He must mean T.J. A sense of unreality slammed into her. All at once, the gelato shop and Laundromat bordering the sidewalk seemed to recede in her vision; the clanging bell of the approaching trolley sounded hollow. “I just got here two days ago. And I’m not exactly a player, so—”

  “Save it. I know you and T.J. McAllister are close.”

  “But he’s not my boyfriend.” He’s my bonded warlock. My kind of…sort of…magical husband. “And he’s not a murderer either.” Shaken by Garmin’s accusation, Dayna hugged her books more closely. “If this is your idea of a joke—”

  “You’ll notice I’m not laughing.” Wearing his usual grim scowl, Garmin met her incredulous gaze. Then he appeared to yield a fraction. “Look,” he said in a more conciliatory tone, “Agent McAllister’s past is…complicated. We have reason to believe he’s fallen on the wrong side of things. That’s why I followed you—to warn you. To tell you to stay away from T.J.”

  Stay away from T.J.? The idea made every ounce of rebellion rise up inside her. She needed T.J. At least for now.

  Dayna shook her head. “You can’t be serious. Come on. He’s an IAB agent. If you can’t trust one of your own agents—”

  “I’m not talking about trust. I’m talking about reality.” Garmin gazed toward the bustling market. Dayna wondered if he’d glimpsed T.J.’s doppelganger there, too. “The reality is, Agent McAllister is a loner. He always has been. He doesn’t confide in anyone. He doesn’t trust easily either. When I recruited him, it was one hell of a fight just to convince him that I wouldn’t—” Garmin broke off, gave her a strangely nostalgic look, then shook his head. “That doesn’t matter. What’s important now is that he’s trusted you. It’s all over you.”

  Dayna swore. He must be able to see her unusual aura, just like her mother had done. The realization made her feel naked.

  “I have got to learn to read those things. Like, yesterday.” With a beleaguered frown, she looked up at Garmin. “Yes, all right. T.J. and I have a…relationship.” She felt no readier to confide the details of her bonding to the IAB than she had been to Margo. But it could not be smart to lie to the magical equivalent of the FBI. “But there’s no way he’s a killer! For one thing, I would have sensed those emotions in him. He can’t hide anything from me.”

  Garmin was clearly unimpressed. “Knowing when someone is lying to you is a witchy talent. I’ll grant you that. And maybe it feels new to a runaway like you. But however unfamiliar to you, typical witch abilities are not on the same level with—”

  “Are you guys required to be patronizing, or something?”

  “No.” The head agent smirked. “It’s strictly a perk.”

  “Fine. What I mean is, T.J. literally can’t hide anything from me. I can feel every emotion he has. Including—presumably—the homicidal ones. I haven’t sensed anything like that, so—”

  “You’re a clairvoyant?” Garmin’s expression sharpened with intense interest. “Are you sure? True clairvoyance is rare.”

  “But useful, I’d imagine. Especially to the IAB. Right?”

  “I can have a desk for you at the bureau in ten minutes.”

  “Wait. Don’t start recruiting me yet.” Laughing, Dayna held up both hands to ward off Garmin. “My clairvoyance only works with T.J. I can’t explain it.” She felt sorry she’d mentioned it at all, given how weird he was being about it. Garmin appeared ready to jump her and forcibly extract whatever memories she had of T.J. “Look, if it would help T.J., I’d be happy to come down to the IAB offices and make an official statement or something.”

  “Yes, fine. That would be helpful.” Garmin verbally waved away her offer, plainly interested more in her experience of T.J.’s feelings than in her avowal of his innocence. “But you can read his emotions? All of them? How strongly?”

  Instantly, Dayna flashed on the loving way T.J. had cradled her face after they’d been together that morning. She thought of the way he’d smiled at her—as though she were indescribably wonderful. His smile had sent a tingle all the way to her toes.

  T.J. had warmed her heart. He had awakened her.

  “Um, pretty strongly.”
It was an outrageous understatement, but it was all she had. “They’re pretty strong emotions.” Dayna realized how incriminating that might sound. She hastened to correct herself. “Not murderously strong! Just intense. He’s intense. You know that. You’ve known him awhile, right?”

  Garmin nodded. “More than ten years.”

  It occurred to Dayna that, despite his unforgiving demeanor, Garmin was probably trying to clear T.J.’s tarnished reputation, not condemn him. After all, they’d worked together at the bureau for a long time. They had to be friends.

  On the other hand, Garmin was here to warn her away from T.J., in no uncertain terms. It seemed likely that Garmin knew something about her bonded partner that she didn’t.

  Confused by the implications of it all, Dayna did what she always did. She decided to escape the situation.

  “Well, it’s been real, Agent Garmin. But I’m in kind of a hurry.” She gestured to the trolley stop. “I’ve got a busy day ahead. So if that’s all you wanted from me…”

  “Actually, there’s more. Especially now, there’s more.”

  Cripes. What had she said? It had to be that stuff about being able to discern T.J.’s emotions. She should have known better than to blab about something that was connected to her bond with T.J. Telling people about it would only make that bond feel more real.

  More lasting and unbreakable and essential.

  Suddenly, Dayna felt twice as eager to run away.

  “Let’s put it all in my statement then. Later. Bye!”

  She shrugged her backpack higher, hoisted her armful of books more securely, then headed for the trolley stop.

  She made it three steps before Garmin appeared.

  Literally. He crackled into being in front of her with blatant disregard for the public practicing of magic he’d warned her about earlier. He crossed his arms, his gaze forceful.

  “Nope. I need more from you, Ms. Sterling. You can do this my way, or I can arrest you for unlicensed use of magic and bring you in to the IAB to determine your penalty. You choose.”

  “Umm…What’s the usual penalty for unlicensed magic?”