Charmed and Dangerous: An Appalachian Magic Novel (Appalachian Magic Series Book 1)

by Debbie Herbert

  “Always the drama queen,” Tanner said. He reached a hand out to help Callie sit up. “Probably just fainted from all the excitement.”

  “Don’t try to stand,” said Michael. “What’s that in your hand?”

  She unclenched her fist. The Bristle pinecone was still there. She’d clutched it so hard, red welts crisscrossed her palm.

  “It’s a message from the Other Side.” She gazed at the cone in awe. It hadn’t been a mere illusion. How lucky could a girl get? She would have James forever, literally for eternity. To think she had dreaded this night for months. She scrambled to her feet. Wait until she told James. He would be as excited as she. Eagerly, she searched for him.

  He lay a few feet away, his body still and pale. From the quickening? Or something worse?

  The sound of sobbing drew her attention. Grandma Jo had buried her face in her hands, body wracking from grief. She’d never seen her grandmother break down, had always thought she was invincible, the strongest woman she knew. The high priestess had an arm draped over Grandma Jo’s shoulder, trying to console her.

  Callie stilled. Summerland. Mom had been in Summerland.

  She didn’t want to look, but she moved her gaze from Grandma Jo to where Mom lay on the ground, eyes shut and grey streaks of ash smeared on her cheeks.

  Her insides turned to ice. While she’d been out cold, everything had blown apart. Grandma Jo’s weeping grew louder, and the stunned coven members broke the circle, coming to see if they could help. The bodies of Lucas and Connors had disappeared. Once dead, immortals vanished with no trace, other than a small pile of ashes.

  Callie wanted to die. If James and Mom were dead, the final Gift of immortality was indeed an eternal curse. She shut her eyes, blocking the image of Mom lying on the ground. She pictured her again in Summerland, where Ginnie danced in the meadow, her face unlined and glowing with happiness.

  “Your mom,” Skye whispered, sidling up next to Callie. “She’s not moving at all.”

  “Has anyone got a cell phone?” the high priestess called out. Suddenly everyone was talking at once and pressing in around Callie.

  “Here,” a young woman handed over a phone. Callie recognized her as Morgan Fillcrest, the pagan soccer mom. “I’ll call 9-1-1 for an ambulance,” Morgan said.

  “Tell them we have two people needing medical assistance,” the priestess said. “I suggest we all take off before the police arrive. That way—”

  “Hey, James is okay,” Michael yelled. “He’s trying to get up.”

  At least James had made it through this night. She stumbled a few steps forward where he sat slumped forward, head buried in his hands.

  “Wait. Make that just one person in need of assistance. Tell them…” the priestess paused. “Tell the dispatcher it may be a heart attack.”

  Morgan nodded and headed away from the commotion to talk to the dispatcher.

  “I suggest we all take off our robes,” the priestess said over the den of noise and movement. “If we don’t, the police will think we’re a bunch of lunatics. Better yet, it would be best if you all went home before the paramedics and police arrive.”

  The members protested but stopped when the priestess raised her hand. “There’s nothing more to be done here. I promise I’ll call each of you with an update before morning.”

  Callie’s feet felt heavy as stones. It took forever to walk to James. She dropped to her knees beside him and ran her fingers through his hair. As long as his head stayed attached to his neck, he’d recover. She’d seen him the same way after the other immortal fight months ago.

  “He needs rest,” Callie told them. “Can you drive him to his house and stay until his Dad returns?”

  Michael nodded. “Gotcha. We need to beat it before the cops get here and start asking questions.”

  One couldn’t be too careful as a witch in the Bible Belt. Morgan Fillcrest notwithstanding, nobody else wanted their secrets revealed. Their cars were nearby behind a pine grove that hid the vehicles from passersby on the county road. Car doors opened and shut, and the roar of engines rang out as everyone took off.

  “Callie?” James’s eyes blinked rapidly. “Can’t be, you’re dead. Are you a ghost?” His gaze was cloudy and confused.

  She kissed him quickly on the forehead. “It’s me. Go with Michael and I’ll see you soon.”

  He snatched her hand. “You feel like Callie, but you’re not real.” His words slurred.

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was drunk,” Michael said. “Tanner, help me get him in the car.” He pulled a set of keys from his jeans pocket and tossed them to his sister. “Skye, drive the car around.”

  “I’m staying with Callie,” she said, shaking her head.

  “Thanks, but you need to go,” she said.

  “But your mom . . .” Skye cast a fearful glance at Ginnie’s prone body.

  “There’s nothing you can do. Go, now.” She gave her a gentle nudge in the back and watched Skye race into the darkness.

  James stood between Tanner and Michael, his arms over each of their shoulders as he tried to walk. He’s going to be fine.

  Mom was another matter. Callie stood immobile, afraid to move, afraid of what she would see close-up. She wrapped her arms about her waist, and her body violently shook.

  Already the bonfire was extinguished, the altar items cleared, and everyone gone except the priestess, Grandma Jo, Morgan and Mom’s . . . body. Grandma Jo seemed a bit more in control, but she clung to her daughter’s hands.

  “We need to go,” Morgan urged. “I gave police directions to your house,” she told Grandma Jo. “Let’s get the body . . . let’s get Ginnie home. Shouldn’t take but a minute.”

  “We can take care of that for you,” a male voice boomed from the darkness. Three men emerged dressed in kilts, their bodies dirty and spotted with blood from flesh wounds. Must be some of the immortals Carter recruited to help tonight. Many of them in tonight’s battle had worn the traditional battle uniform of their clan’s plaid kilt, still Scottish highland warriors at heart.

  “I thought you could use some help, so I asked them to come,” said a familiar female voice.

  Grandma Jo gasped in astonishment. “Mabel?”

  “I came to gather my son’s ashes, if that’s okay with you.” She spoke haltingly, her striking aquamarine eyes dulled with grief.

  “I never blamed you for anything Lucas did.” The two women embraced and whispered something Callie couldn’t catch. Their combined sorrow of losing their children on the same night made her knees weak.

  Mom. All those lost years she’d missed, resented, and blamed on her mother. Now they’d never make up the lost time.

  The immortals made quick work of what had to be done. They carried Mom to the house. Sirens blared down the road. She roused herself from her stupor and at last went over to her grandmothers and embraced them.

  “Let’s go home,” Grandma Jo said softly. “It’s over.”

  17

  Amber Warmth

  The smell of bacon and coffee floated through the air, helping to dispel some of the heavy gloom.

  Callie carried a plate of food to where Grandma Jo sat.

  “Breakfast is ready.” She tried to put a small note of cheerfulness in her voice. Her heart ached for Mom too, but she had to be strong for Grandma Jo. Her grandmother was always the steady one, but now it was her turn.

  “I’m not hungry,” she said, staring out the window.

  “Please. You haven’t eaten in days. You need your strength.”

  “No,” Grandma Jo said flatly.

  Time for a different tactic. “I won’t eat unless you do.”

  Her grandmother tried to smile. “Playing a guilt trip on me?”

  “Whatever it takes.” She set up a tray, and they ate in silence.

  Grandma Jo leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes. “Thanks. I feel better now.”

  “You look exhausted. We didn’t get much sleep between tal
king to the police and making the . . . you know, arrangements.” Her throat tightened.

  Grandma Jo closed her eyes. “I’ll try to take a nap.”

  She gathered the dirty dishes and worked up the courage to ask Grandma Jo what had been eating at her heart. “I hate to bring this up, but . . . why did Mom die right after my father? I mean, it’s weird.”

  Grandma Jo opened her eyes. “People sometimes literally die from broken hearts.”

  “But they’d been apart for years.”

  “I don’t think Ginnie ever stopped loving him.”

  “Even if that’s true, dying of a broken heart seems like it would at least take a few days.”

  “The coroner ruled it heart failure. That’s all I can tell you.”

  There was more to it, but now wasn’t the time to push.

  Grandma Jo rubbed her eyes. “While I sleep, why don’t you run over and see James? Bring him back with you if he’s up to it. You might need his moral support when everyone starts dropping by.”

  “If you’re sure—”

  “Go on. I’ll wash the dishes later.”

  Callie kissed her cheek. “I won’t stay too long.”

  * * *

  As she feared, Carter answered the door. She squared her shoulders. “I’d like to see James if he’s awake.”

  “Come on in.” He opened the door wider.

  She followed him inside and sat on the sofa.

  “Sorry about your mother.” He sat across from her in a leather recliner. “It hurts to lose family, and you’re awfully young.”

  Was that a dig? One of his many objections in the past had been that she was too young, unlike the perfect Theodora.

  “Thank you,” she said with cautious politeness. She refused to talk about Mom. He probably thought the only good witch was a dead witch.

  Carter sighed. “Look, I haven’t socialized with witches since …” His voice trailed off. “A long time. And I shouldn’t have tried to get James back with Theodora.” He flushed, looking as uncomfortable as she felt. “James gave me hell about that.”

  “Good.” The word slipped out before she could filter her response. “I mean . . . forget it.”

  He let out a sigh in relief. “I promise no more interference.”

  Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all. And he had been good to James when he first became immortal and needed to learn their ways.

  “I haven’t heard any news. Was anybody killed when you drove out my dad’s coven?”

  “A few.” He shrugged indifferently. “Once immortals engage in a fight one-on-one, there’s usually no stopping until one dies.”

  “James told me that’s changing.”

  “If you can learn to tame the animalistic instinct to kill and conquer.”

  She wondered if she needed taming. “What about female immortals? Do they have death matches like men?”

  “Not the few I’ve met. They do have an immediate, irrational dislike for one another though.” Carter stood. “Go and see James. I was fixin’ to go into town.”

  She also stood. “Thanks for your help that night.”

  “In a way, it was invigorating. I hadn’t battled for centuries.” He waved and headed out. “James is in his room,” he called over his shoulder.

  There was something more than a little bloodthirsty about immortals. She had a lot to learn.

  She climbed the spiral staircase with growing anticipation. At the door to his room, she rapped softly. She put her ear to the door but heard nothing, so she turned the knob and stuck her head in.

  “James?” she whispered. If he was sleeping, she didn’t want to startle him. Callie entered and stepped noiselessly into the dark, quiet room.

  He was sprawled in bed fast asleep. She tiptoed over and stopped at the edge of the four-poster bed. He’d never looked sexier. He lay on his right side, sporting a two-day beard stubble. His dark brown hair was disheveled against the white pillow. Her gaze drifted down to his bare chest, and she stared, mesmerized, at the rippling muscles and the curling tendrils of chest hair. Her eyes roamed farther, down to where the sheet met the hard plane of his hips and abs. Her heart beat faster.

  She knelt on the floor beside him, face even with his. Callie touched his cheek and stroked the new growth of hair on his face.

  The response wasn’t what she expected. In a mere two seconds he awoke, reaching for a weapon. He turned to his left and pulled out a sword concealed under the sheets. Jumping to his feet, he crouched on the bed in a fighting stance, sword raised above his head with both hands.

  And he was naked.

  “What the—? Callie, what are you doing here?” His expression changed from astonishment to embarrassment. He snatched the sheet and tied it around his waist.

  “You look like a Roman nobleman wrapped in a toga.” And then she couldn’t help it. She laughed so hard, tears ran down her cheeks. For the first time in days, her sorrow lifted. Just as quickly, the laughter died, and she cried for real.

  He wrapped his arms around her waist. His warmth and strength comforted her as she inhaled his familiar soap and leather scent. The amber slightly stung her neck.

  “Carter told me she died. A heart attack. I’m so sorry, baby.”

  “So the coroner ruled, but I’m not so sure.

  James held her at arm’s length. “What do you mean?”

  “Never mind. I really don’t want to talk about it right now.” She’d been holding in the grief since the solstice, partly from shock and partly to be strong for Grandma Jo. Finally, it felt safe to let go.

  He could have held her for two minutes or two hours, but eventually she pushed out of his embrace. “I’m better now.”

  James pulled her back to him and delivered a long, slow kiss that wiped out every thought except her body’s need to be joined with his. She sank into the mattress, and he sank with her, his weight pressing down on top of her body. Anticipation fevered her brain. This wouldn’t be like the clumsy, quick sex with old what’s-his-name who had dumped her for another. This was James. A man she loved and adored.

  A sexy man.

  He shifted his body to her side and caressed her breasts. She groaned and arched against him. With practiced hands, he unsnapped her bra from behind. His lips found her hard nipples, and he suckled them through the soft cotton fabric.

  Dear. Freaking. Goddess.

  Quickly, Callie shucked off jeans and panties and then lifted the shirt and bra over her head. He watched her with dark, smoldering eyes.

  “You’re beautiful,” he ground out huskily.

  She returned to his side, naked skin against naked skin. His erection pressed into the apex of her thighs, hard and insistent.

  She did this to him. Talk about power—no spell could compare to the pride she felt in knowing her effect on his body.

  His fingers explored her folds and then entered. She rocked against him, her passion mounting.

  “Now,” she groaned. “I want you now. Seems I’ve waited forever.”

  “You’ve no idea,” he said, partly chuckling, partly moaning. “I’ve wanted you since the day I saw you on Lavender Mountain.”

  Callie raised her hips, pressing her core against his erection. “Stop talking.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  And he was in her. Filling and stretching her. And it still wasn’t enough. She arched her back and rocked against him, meeting his thrusts. Until at last . . . at last . . . her body found its more-than-satisfactory release.

  James lay beside her stroking her hair, and she felt suddenly shy.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  He raised a brow. “For making love to the most gorgeous woman ever? I should be thanking you.”

  She giggled. “Not that. Well, sort of. What I mean is . . .” Her face heated. “I’ve never, you know . . . had one of those before.”

  “An orgasm?”

  She nodded and buried her head in his chest. Why did she have to admit that? He’d probably had so many ov
er the last hundred years that this was nothing special to him.

  “Hey,” he said softly, lifting her chin with a finger. “It won’t be the last.”

  The tender amusement in his eyes dispelled her shyness. “I’ll hold you to that promise.”

  He abruptly sat up and smacked his forehead. “I’m such an ass. Here you are upset about your mom, and all I want to do is make love.” He walked to a dresser and pulled out underwear and a pair of jeans.

  “Don’t be hard on yourself. I was enjoying myself too, you know.” Quickly, she dressed in the clothes she’d thrown on the floor.

  James’s jaw was tight when he walked back and took her hand mid-stride, not even pausing as he led her out of the bedroom. He continued his brisk pace all the way to the den as she struggled to keep up.

  “You’re not throwing me out of the house, are you?”

  He laughed. “No, but if you stayed naked in my bed, I’d never let you leave.” He seemed his usual, controlled self again. “How long have I been out of it?”

  “Two days.”

  “I haven’t missed your mom’s funeral then.” His face registered relief. “I want to help you get through it; I know how hard it is to lose a parent. Ginnie was a remarkable woman.”

  She put a hand to her throat. “Can’t, I can’t . . . please . . . I want to escape from it all a couple of hours before I have to go home again and be strong for Grandma Jo.”

  He hugged her tightly, kissing the top of her head. “I understand, baby. I’ve been through it. Many times.” He pasted a determined smile on his sharp features. “I’m starving, haven’t eaten a real meal since . . . well, you know. Dad woke me for a few minutes at a time to make me drink water. Now I need protein, like a big, thick steak.”

  “Take a shower and shave, and I’ll fix you something. You’re still recovering. I don’t want you overdoing it.” She opened the refrigerator and rummaged. Staying busy kept her mind from reliving the image of Mom’s lifeless body.

  “Great. Maybe I’ll feel more human after a long shower.” He opened the freezer, removed a package of frozen meat, and put it in the microwave. “I’ll set it to defrost. The pots and pans are over here.” As he started to leave, he tripped and grabbed the kitchen counter to steady himself.