More Than Magic (Books of the Kindling)

by Donna June Cooper

  She pulled her hand away, nearly losing the glove when she did.

  “Quite a hunk”, Trish had said. Quite a hunk indeed.

  “I’m Grace. Grace Woodruff.”

  “Woodruff. So you’re—”

  “The owner. Yes. As Ms. Moore probably told you, we’re on a skeleton staff right now.” A skeleton consisting of one bone. Oh yes, and Jamie, and Pooka. Two bones then.

  “Trish explained all that. I’m afraid I twisted her arm a bit to get up here, but— Well, this place is perfect for my purposes. Did she tell you I was writing a book?”

  “Yes she did.” And I bet you charmed the socks right off of our Trish, Mr. City Man. Grace pressed her lips together, trying not to smile. “She also said you had recently been ill. I hope you’re feeling better.” There, that was circumspect.

  “Yeah. Well, it’s kind of obvious, I guess.” He gestured to himself apologetically. “I picked up this nasty parasite in Colombia while I was down there working on the book. It took a lot out of me, but we beat it down. I figured staying up here a while could only do me some good and the docs agreed.”

  Parasite. Columbia. What the hell kind of book are you writing Mr. City Man? “A parasite. How interesting. Do you happen—”

  He grinned, waving his hand. “Trish warned me you might give me the third degree, but to be honest, I have no idea. Can’t pronounce it. Don’t want to. I’m just glad to be rid of the thing.” The gray eyes seemed to dance a bit. “But if you want to try some of your famous herbal medicine on me, I’d be glad for any help putting on some pounds.”

  Grace assessed the man before her. He did look like someone debilitated by an exotic fever of some kind—nearly burned out and left a husk. There was evidence the man took good care of his body, or had before something nearly killed him. His eyes seemed clear though.

  “So, any remedies to recommend?” His voice was teasing and Grace realized she had been staring a little too long.

  “I hesitate to recommend anything without the details,” she said, looking away. She gestured to Pooka who trotted obediently to her side. “But your doctors were right. Simple food, good clean air and water, mild exercise, and sound sleep should speed things along. If you remember the name of the parasite and any details of your treatment, I’d be glad to make some suggestions.”

  “Well, since I’m doing a good job of forgetting the whole experience, I may have to stick with the simple food, clean water and sound sleep approach.” Nick looked around at the trees. “But I should’ve brought a white noise machine, I think.”

  She frowned. “For what? We don’t have any loud machinery here. And there are certainly no traffic noises.” She waved toward the house. “Our chickens are quite a ways downslope beyond the solar array and the greenhouses, and the rooster—”

  “Whoa!” He laughed. “That’s what I’m talking about. It’s too quiet here.”

  Cocking her head, she listened. Oh.

  It was the deep quiet of the woods readying itself for the darkest days of winter. The peepers and bull frogs and assorted musicians of the forest symphony were all tucked away in their beds for their icy winter hiatus.

  A deep breath of moist air, redolent with the pungent smell of decaying leaves, reminded her again that she had missed her favorite season entirely.

  “Yes. Well—” she cleared her throat, “you will hear some rather loud noises out there. Falling trees and branches are the loudest, but there are owls, foraging deer—” She recalled her objective almost too late. “Coyotes, bears—”

  “Wild boar?” he asked solemnly, but she could swear a smile was tugging at the corner of his mouth.

  “Perhaps,” she responded. “There’s even a big cat—a mountain lion—up there somewhere, but you don’t want to get close enough to hear him. Sometimes you’ll hear the real predators hunting over in that direction.” She pointed east toward the Taggart place. “With their guns.”

  His face and demeanor changed ever so slightly as he glanced east, like Pooka catching a scent. No, it must’ve been the light, because when he looked back he was just another tired traveler waiting for her to finish her spiel so he could trudge up to bed. And he certainly didn’t look ready to hightail it back down the road.

  “It’s the second to last cabin on the path. ‘Jewelweed’ is on the sign. I thought you might appreciate the quiet back there.” She fished in her jacket pocket for the key and held it out to him. “There should be firewood in the box and plenty stacked out back. There are complete instructions for the fireplace, the thermostat, the internet connection—”

  “Yes, I was surprised when Trish mentioned that. Can’t be wireless up here—”

  She smiled. “Actually, yes it is. We have a cellular extender and repeater set up—using fiber optics. There’s a list of the services available or you can use our network.”

  His mouth dropped open at that. “Your own— That’s pretty new technology.”

  “You’ll find we have a lot of that around here. We pride ourselves on being at the forefront of green technology.” Pops had been well ahead of his time, pioneering some of the types of energy efficient innovations that were now all the rage and only using materials harvested from his own land whenever possible.

  “So, where’s the— I assume you have some kind of tower?”

  She nodded toward the north. “Camouflaged as a tree. Up on one of the highest spots around here—Star Catcher Rock.”

  He tilted his head back and looked up. “I can see why it would be named that.”

  Grace followed his gaze to the sweep of stars above them. They were putting on a show for him tonight. “Yes, well, that’s why our lighting in most areas is motion sensitive—to keep light pollution to a minimum. As for noise pollution, we do have satellite TV and radio if you’re interested.” She heard a stifled snort from his direction, but forged on. “There’s a channel guide and remote on top of the set, along with instructions for everything and a list showing the locations of all the utensils and staples we provide in the kitchen. We prefer that you only use organic cleaning products, if you need to clean up something. But I’m sure Trish filled you in on that.”

  Nick nodded.

  “If you run out of any of the basics, sugar, salt, whatever, we have extra supplies, fresh linens, extra blankets. Just call the house and leave a message.” She closed her eyes and mentally reviewed the list. “I think that’s it. To be honest, I haven’t done this in a while. No, wait. We have fresh eggs every morning. We usually put the extra in a basket with our breakfast buffet, but I’ll leave them beside the front door for you. Feel free to come down and get as many as you like. When we have anything fresh to eat from our greenhouses it’ll be there too. I’m sorry, but our cook’s on vacation at the moment—”

  “That’s fine with me. I signed up for the rugged survivor package. No food, no frills.”

  Survivor I’ll concede. But you look more tired than rugged. “Well, I’m sorry you missed Ouida’s cooking. She’s a marvel.” Grace picked up the basket. “I was on my way up to make your bed and light a fire for you. Can I help you carry anything?”

  He grinned. “Don’t bother with that, I can manage,” he said, taking the basket easily out of her hand. “I don’t have much, and Trish told me I was a bit of an unexpected guest, so I think making my own bed’s part of the deal.” He extended his other hand to her once more. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Woodruff. I’m looking forward to the peace and quiet around here.”

  His hand closed firmly around her fingers again. Even through the glove, she felt the warmth of his touch.

  “It’s Grace. Just call me Grace.” Slipping out of his grip, she motioned to Pooka. “I do hope you sleep well.” She headed for the path to the house.

  “Thanks for the warm welcome,” he called after her. “You too, Pooka.”

  At the sound of his name, Pooka trotted back to sniff Nick’s hand and get a quick shoulder rub in return.

  Of course Mr.
City Man had captivated the dog. No doubt she would find all manner of woodland creatures lumbering in tomorrow morning to eat out of his hand like some clichéd children’s movie, or worse. No, more likely Mr. City Man would venture off into the woods and get lost amongst the woodland creatures, including one big cat.

  “Oh! One other thing.” She turned back. “There’s a map on the cabin wall showing the marked trails on and off the mountain, and another folded one you can carry with you tucked into that basket. They have GPS waypoints clearly marked and we have GPS units you can borrow if you don’t have your own.”

  His smile seemed to slip a bit. Likely he just wanted her to stop talking so he could go up and get some rest.

  “Of course, like everything else, the satellites can be affected by the terrain and— Well, I wouldn’t try anything intermediate or expert until you know your limits. We border on the Pisgah National Forest to the north and west and you don’t want to get lost over in there.”

  “And here I was thinking I’d to go up and catch some stars,” he said casually.

  She opened her mouth to inform him in no uncertain terms that the hike up to Star Catcher Rock was not a good idea at night, but found him looking at her with that damned grin on his face and his hands held up, basket and all.

  “Map. GPS. Got it. No gallivanting around for me tonight. I appreciate the advice.”

  “No trouble. Come, Pooka.” But, as she walked away, Grace had the strange certainty that Mr. City Man was going to be nothing but trouble.

  Nick let out an admiring breath.

  “Talk about trouble,” he murmured. “There it goes.”

  A tall redhead. The pictures didn’t do her justice, or show the actual color of that hair. If Nick had a weak spot, it would involve red hair. A lot of women tried to get that color out of a bottle, but hers was all natural. And pretty long, from the way she had it clamped down and sticking out in all directions.

  And she smelled damn good too. That totally innocent comment about coming to the cabin with him to make his bed and light a fire had nearly done him in. He shook his head and carried the basket to the back of his SUV. The only steamy thoughts he had time for right now involved strong coffee and a blazing wood fire, in that order, because based on what he had just heard he needed to do a lot more research and review the case materials again before he made his next report.

  Pulling out his computer case and duffel bag, he thought about how very little he really had to put in that report. So far this case was built on a lot of coincidences and pure instinct—smoke and mirrors. Appropriate for a case about something called “Magic”, but he doubted it would go very far with his boss.

  Gazing back in the direction that his redheaded hostess had gone, he thought ruefully that there was a lot more to Grace Woodruff than red hair and legs up to…wherever. There was steel under that porcelain, and a scientist’s intellect under all that Southern charm. But there was something else. She had been nervous, almost jumpy, around him.

  He didn’t think she was afraid of Nick Crowe. His charming-but-harmless act seemed to have worked pretty well. Hopefully she thought the worst she had to fear from good old Nick Crowe was a clumsy pass or two.

  But she was definitely afraid of something. She had been trying, a bit awkwardly, to scare him away—or rather, to scare away poor Nick Crowe—with all her bear and boar and big cat stories. But why?

  His gut told him she was hiding up here. Or hiding something up here. But his gut also told him it wasn’t a meth lab. However, there was the damn cell extender tower, and the GPS units as well.

  Grimacing, he hoisted the duffel and swung the computer case onto his shoulder. He’d have to come back for the box of groceries and the cooler. When he picked up the basket again he caught a whiff of her scent and turned to see if she was standing there. No. He leaned over the basket and took a deep breath.

  Damn. The sheets and towels smelled like her. Probably some soothing herbal scent the farm used. Getting to sleep was going to be really interesting.

  Well, at least he might get to follow through on that clumsy pass just to get more information. Perhaps he might find out if that lovely red hair was as silky as it appeared.

  The real bonus to all this was that, despite the best medical and chemical efforts to the contrary, Grace Woodruff had proven to him that all his equipment was still in working order, which was rather surprising. He smiled smugly, then frowned when the word “magic” popped into his head.

  Chapter Three

  “You can fix it, Dr. Grace. I know you can.” Tink’s voice was strong and firm as she sat in the center of her hospital bed.

  “You just believe in the magic.”

  Tink’s pink kerchief fluttered upward as a gold leaf blew by. Grace blinked and found herself at the top of the mountain in the middle of their ancient ginseng bed with Tink standing before her, gossamer wings trembling on her back as the leaves of the ginseng danced around them in the wind.

  “You can fix the mountain. Just listen to the song.”

  Then the little fairy’s hand was in hers and Tink was leading her across the ginseng toward the rocks that bordered the east side of the bed. Grace saw that they were surrounded by darkness, boiling in the trees at the edge of the clearing and above their heads. Everything beyond the ginseng was blackened and burned. Only the ginseng remained, the shivering gold leaves pulsing with light in stark contrast to the darkness looming around them.

  “Poison,” came the whisper. She knew that if she looked it would be Granny Lily holding her hand now, leading her through the plants, because Tink stood in front of them on the rocks. Only it wasn’t Tink, with her bright pink kerchief and fragile golden wings. This child had red hair, swirling and blowing in the wind. Grace strained to see the little girl’s features, but they seemed to blur and run like watercolors.

  “Blight,” came the soft voice, behind her once more. She didn’t hesitate this time, turning to watch the shadow boiling into the clearing—a finger of blackness that reached out of the trees, snaking over her head into the rocks behind her, twisting like some strange vortex in the air.

  Grace ran, desperate to stop the devastation—scrambling through the ginseng toward the rocks, not knowing what she would do when she reached them, but knowing she had to try. It spiraled up from the rocks like a black column of smoke, spreading a foul haze that almost blotted out the flashing gold of the plants.

  “Bane.” Then the smoky vortex spun sideways and Granny Lily stood next to it, her long red hair whipping around her shoulders, pointing at the base of the ugly column that whirled beside her. The darkness tugged at her hair and her dress, tendrils of black swirling around her and up into the air. It was as if she were on fire with no flames.

  Grace could only stare at Lily’s pale face, whole and beautiful, surrounded by strands of copper dancing in the air. Unscarred.

  “Ward!”

  And then Lily morphed and melted and it was Tink standing there in her hospital gown with the smoke whirling around her.

  Tink pointed down at her feet. “You can fix it, Dr. Grace.”

  Pops was crumpled there, pale and still, the dark wind whipping through his white hair, tugging him toward the edge of the rocks.

  “Fix the mountain,” Tink said calmly.

  Grace reached toward Pops, but the vortex snaked toward her, engulfing her in foul smoke, filling her mouth with filth, pulling at her hair, dragging her away.

  “Dr. Grace!”

  Grace awoke with a start to the dark chill just before dawn, sweaty and cold, Tink’s scream still ringing in her ears. Her hands went to her face to wipe away the soot and she found her face damp, but that was all. She took a shaky breath that felt more like a sob, and heard Pooka whining anxiously next to her head.

  She rubbed his ears and he lay back down on the rug beside her bed. “I’m all right, boy.”

  But she wasn’t. She closed her eyes with a sigh. Oh, physically she was fine, but mentally… Men
tally, she was starting to come undone. The dreams hadn’t been so persistent at first, only coming once in a while, and fading quickly out of her memory. Now it seemed that Granny Lily and her cohorts were screaming at her every night. And she wasn’t forgetting the details during the day, making it harder and harder to stay focused.

  The dreams had taken on a note of urgency—as if warning her about something. But dreams were Daniel’s thing, not hers. And Daniel wouldn’t be here for weeks.

  Short of coming up with some kind of dreamless sleep concoction there didn’t seem to be any way to stop them, although she hadn’t yet tried drinking herself into a nice temporary oblivion. But alcohol had never had the effect on her that others seemed to enjoy—at least not for long.

  She just needed some decent sleep, or some normal dreams. Perhaps about someone with silvery gray eyes, an adorable dimple, and an easy laugh? Someone who liked dogs and had a voice that warmed up parts of her she thought she had tucked into cold storage. Someone with a bright smile that almost chased away the pain lurking in his eyes—the dark fever inside him that was burning him to ash.

  The what? Her eyes popped open. Something about Mr. Crowe. Nick—

  The bed bounced as Pooka put his front paws on the edge and licked her face.

  “Oh, thanks. Now I’m thoroughly awake.” She rolled over to peer at the clock. 4:37 burned into her retina with green luminous numbers.

  Grace swung out of bed and into her fuzzy slippers, tossing the comforter over the bed. “Who needs an alarm clock with you around?” Pooka ignored her, padding down the stairs ahead of her as she shrugged into her robe and followed him down.

  “And no barking and waking up the neighbors.” She let Pooka out the front door and strained to see if there was any hint of light up at the Jewelweed. Not a glimmer. She suspected their new guest would sleep till noon, the way he had looked last night. “We want Mr. City Man to get plenty of sleep and stay out of our way.”