by Mindy Klasky
Jane sat before the largest array of crystals he’d ever seen in a private collection. She’d cut her hair since he’d seen her last. She’d invested in some decent makeup too; he could still see traces of mascara on her lashes despite the late hour.
Shaking his head, he reminded himself that he shouldn’t be paying attention to how Jane looked. He was interested in her magical ability.
Neko, with his feline hearing, had probably known David was in the house from the instant he worked the lock. He considered it a good sign that the familiar hadn’t alerted his mistress. Neko trusted him.
Jane, meanwhile, was awed by the crystals. “What are these things?” she whispered.
He had to make her aware of his presence. If he waited any longer, she’d be outraged by his presumption. “Neko,” he said, purposely keeping his tone light. “Aren’t you obliged to warn her before she touches the Spinster Stone?”
Jane jerked her hand back from the harmless sphere of rose quartz. He saw the instant she recognized his voice. Her shoulders relaxed, and she turned to him with a tart grimace. “Don’t you knock anymore?”
“I did. You must not have heard, because you were down in the basement. I let myself in and helped myself to some tea.” He saluted her with his mug of chamomile as she glanced up the stairs. He could practically hear her wondering if she’d locked the door before she went to bed. “You did,” he said. “You locked it.” And then, because it felt like the right time to share the truth, he added, “It’s standard practice, though, for a warder to be able to open his own witch’s locks. It can come in handy if she’s ever in real danger.”
She frowned. “I guess witches don’t feel the need for privacy.”
David shrugged. “Not from their warders, anyway.”
He wasn’t her warder yet, not in any formal way. But her magic called to his. He knew how to protect her. He knew how to guide her on her path to witchcraft.
As she caught her lip between her teeth, he spoke quickly, determined not to let the conversation grow awkward. “So you want to learn about crystals?”
“I told Neko. I want something to help my grandmother. She collapsed yesterday, when we were out at the museum. The doctors say she has double pneumonia, and she probably cracked a rib, coughing so hard. They held her overnight because she was so dehydrated. They put her on IVs.”
He pictured Sarah Smythe, the woman who could eat him under the table at breakfast, who had stood fast on her refusal to worry Jane about witchcraft. But Jane was worried now. She needed reassurance and grounding if she was going to use her powers for anything constructive.
He said, “You’ve shown some affinity for spells. But working with crystals is completely different. Most witches can’t handle both areas. At least not well.”
“I think I might manage.” She eyed the box of magical stones. “I think my mother has an affinity for crystals.”
His mind flashed on Clara serving up tea as he scouted out information. He’d glimpsed the tensions wired through this family of witches. It couldn’t have been easy for Jane to call Clara her mother just now.
Respecting her effort, he came to sit beside her. “Let’s see what you can do, then.” He reached into the box and shifted the layers to get to the bottom. His fingers ranged over the divided compartments, alighting first on one stone, then on another.
“Wait,” Jane said. “What were you talking about, a Spinster Stone?”
“I was joking.”
She looked skeptical, and he regretted teasing her. Time to make up for that. He plucked a rod of clear quartz from the bottom of the box and settled it in her palm, saying, “Tell me what you feel.”
She studied the crystal carefully, holding it up to the light and viewing it from all angles. Frustration grew on her face. “What?” he asked.
“Nothing!” she said, clutching it tightly, “It’s a rock.”
Neko shifted closer to her, focusing all of his attention on the quartz. Taking a deep breath, Jane opened her fingers. “It’s clear,” she finally said, her tone flat with reluctance. “It’s heavy for its size.”
“Very good.” She was trying. It was difficult to shift perspective from the mundane to the magical. “How does it feel?”
She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. After a long pause, she said, “It doesn’t have a feeling. It doesn’t have an emotion of its own.” He saw the instant she recognized the truth of her words, the exact moment she became aware of the crystal’s arcane force. “Instead,” she said, “It’s like a magnifying glass. It makes other things more intense.” She became more confident, her words flowing faster. “Yes! That’s it! It enhances other feelings. It makes me more sure of myself right now!”
“Precisely.” He smiled as her eyes popped open. “That’s clear quartz in your hand. An excellent specimen of it, too. It’s an amplifier, a strengthener of your existing thoughts. Try this one.”
He dug around in the box again, extracting a smooth disk of rhodosite. He traded stones with her, then watched her fold her fingers and close her eyes. As soon as she extended her senses, her face softened. A gentle smile curled her lips. “Love?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said, keeping his voice low so he didn’t break her trance. “It’s called rhodosite. It eases stress. Heartache.”
Her eyes snapped open. So, she wasn’t ready to talk about matters of the heart.
He retreated to the box of crystals. If she wanted to heal her grandmother, then aventurine was the trick. He settled the stone in her hand.
The first night he’d met her, he never could have read her emotions. Now, he could see the aventurine’s energy move through her body. The vibrations warmed her arm, her chest, her heart and lungs.
Neko leaned in, and David watched her draw from her familiar’s power. She did it naturally, gracefully, without any jerk as she made the connection. Like a witch with decades of experience, she used Neko’s energy, positioning it to reflect her own as she deepened her bond to the green crystal.
He saw the instant she realized how the stone could help her grandmother. She channeled energy from her own body into the stone, transferring her unbridled love for the woman who had raised her. Offering up her power as easily as any witch he’d ever seen, she dove deeper. Her touch was easy, so light that that he nearly overlooked the sheer volume of energy she was siphoning into the crystal.
“That’s enough,” he murmured when he realized how much power she’d transferred.
Her magic snagged on his voice. She used his words to pull herself back to consciousness, and the tug between them felt practiced, secure. She opened her eyes and stared at the crystal on her palm. “What is it called?”
“Aventurine. It’s a quartz as well. But one that focuses healing.” He reached into the wooden box and pulled out a velvet drawstring sack. “Here.”
She stared at him as if she’d never seen a bag before, and he realized he’d let her go too deep, pouring too much of herself into the aventurine cure. Neko finally took her hand and tilted it gently, making the stone roll into the bag.
He nodded as the familiar tightened the silk ribbons and tucked the sack into his pocket. David said, “You can give it to your grandmother after you sleep.”
“No.” She clearly meant to protest, but her voice was a broken whisper. “She’s sick. She needs it tonight. I’m family. They’ll let me in.”
“It’s practically morning anyway, and she has mainstream medicine for now. You said they put her on IVs; those will help her even more than this crystal can. When you give it to her, it can start the long work of rebuilding and strengthening against future illness.”
She shook her head and tried to climb to her feet, but it took three tries before she was standing. At least she laughed at her lack of coordination. “Neko!” she cried, like a queen suddenly mad with power. “Mix some drinks! The magic wand is in the drawer!”
The familiar looked disconcerted, but David only pursed his lips before he said, �
��Come on, Jane. It’s time for you to get some sleep. Let’s get you ready for bed.”
She stumbled into the sofa, barely catching herself before she hit the floor. Shooting out a hip in a mockery of seduction, she said, “Is that an invitation, big boy?”
He’d committed a rookie teacher’s mistake, letting her go too far with her first crystal working. It certainly didn’t help matters that her damned familiar was snickering under his breath. David shook his head and said, “Just doing my job.”
At least Neko helped walk Jane to her bedroom. The familiar watched a little too avidly, though, as she produced a key from her pocket. David unlocked the door, and all three of them stumbled over the threshold.
“No!” Jane suddenly exclaimed, flailing around to push a hand against Neko’s chest. “You can’t come in here!”
David followed her line of sight to the aquarium that crouched against the wall. He was pleased she’d taken his admonition seriously, keeping the neon tetra safe. As if to prove his point, Neko licked his lips, sharp eyes following the fish behind a frond of fern.
David nodded toward Jane and said firmly, “I’ve got her from here.”
The familiar’s disappointment was comical, but David didn’t have time to laugh. Jane’s body was sagging; she was close to passing out. He jutted his chin to get the familiar out of the room before he half-carried Jane to her bed.
She moaned a little as he peeled off the bunny slippers she’d tried to hide on his first night in her cottage. Certain she’d be mortified in the morning, he schooled his face to stillness.
He’d trained for this, learned to care for an exhausted witch. He concentrated on the mechanics of loosening the knot on her bathrobe belt. He helped her into a sitting position and slipped the garment from her shoulders. With professional hands, he twitched her pajamas into place and eased her onto her pillow, settling the top sheet and comforter into place.
There was nothing seductive about his gestures, nothing untoward. He was protecting her. Caring for her. He might never have kissed her outside the gate of the Peabridge gardens.
“Go to sleep,” he said, passing his hand over her forehead. As his fingers tangled in unseen jasmine vines, he pushed with a little of his warder’s strength, urging her to follow his command.
She relaxed against her pillow, but she still found the energy to ask, “David?”
“Hmm?”
“What just happened out there?”
“You used new powers. I let you go deeper than you should have. I felt the strength of your love for your grandmother, and that swayed my judgment. Get some sleep. You’ll be fine when you wake up.”
Her face smoothed, but she asked again, “David?”
“Hmm?”
“You’re different now.”
“Different?”
“Than the first night. You scared me then.”
He’d never wanted to scare a witch. He groped for an answer. “That first night, I didn’t know who you were. I came here as a warder, trying to protect resources that were in danger.”
“And then?”
How could he explain everything that had happened? He’d lost his best friend, his job, everything he thought mattered. She didn’t need to know that. Not now. Maybe not ever. Still, he found an honest answer. “I met you. I did some research. I became the warder you wanted me to be—you needed me to be. So you would listen. And learn.”
Her forehead wrinkled in the tiniest of frowns. He passed his hand over her brow one more time, pouring in more of his warder’s compulsion. “Sleep, Jane. We’ll talk more later. Sleep.”
And she did.
36
Well, what am I supposed to think, David?” Linda sighed in frustration as she passed him a cup of coffee. “You call me to bail you out at the Night Court and then you disappear for a week. Didn’t you think I’d be worried? That I’d want to know how you’re doing?”
Out of habit, he glanced toward the stairs. The last thing he wanted was for George to walk into the kitchen.
“Oh, you’re safe,” Linda said. “He’s getting in one last round of golf before the weather turns.”
David gave her a grateful grin. “I’m sorry I was out of touch,” he said. “I thought you’d be fed up with my screwing up everything I touch.”
“Oh, David…” She took her time arranging snickerdoodles on a plate. “You don’t screw up everything. You’ve made a few spectacularly bad decisions. But you’ve had more than your share of decisions made for you.”
David grimaced as he tilted his head toward his absent father’s study. “Does he know Pitt fired me?”
“Of course.”
“And what did he say?”
“Nothing. He didn’t say anything.” She studied the cookies as if they were the most fascinating thing in the world. “Come to dinner tonight,” she urged. “Please. For me. James and Tommy will be here.”
For just a moment, he almost gave in. But then he shook his head and said, “I can’t.”
“Can’t? Or won’t?”
“Can’t, this time. Really.”
She gave him a wary look. “What’s going on now?”
He took a deep breath. This was the real reason he’d come to Linda. He needed her advice more than ever before. “I think I’ve found a Samhain offer worthy of Hecate.”
“What?” she breathed.
“I’ve found a witch who needs me.”
There. He’d finally succeeded in shocking Linda Hudson. She finally asked, “Who?”
“You don’t know her.”
“I know every crone who’s ever joined the Washington Coven.”
“She’s not a crone. And she’s not in the coven.”
Linda gaped. “You’re talking about Jane Madison.”
“You know about her?”
“The entire coven is talking about her.”
“How the hell—”
“Norville Pitt,” Linda interrupted. “He told Teresa Alison Sidney that the Osgood collection was found. He never mentioned you, though.”
“He wouldn’t,” David said dryly.
“Teresa Alison Sidney is just waiting for the new year before she summons the upstart.”
“Jane’s not ready for that.”
Linda’s eyebrows arched. “All witches belong in a coven. You know that.”
“Not this one.” He waited a moment, to emphasize his next words. “She’s stronger than Teresa Alison Sidney.”
“Impossible.”
David was adamant. “I’ve felt her work. And now I’m teaching her how to use her powers.”
“You’re a warder, not a teacher!”
“I can’t exactly drop her into the nearest magicarium! This is all new to her—her powers, her familiar, the Osgood collection. Right now I’m the only one she trusts. And if that means I learn how to teach a witch, I’ll do it.”
Linda’s voice grew heated. “Did you decide to become a magister before or after you started playing cops and robbers with your werewolf friend?”
“Shifter,” he corrected. “You know that. And you know I couldn’t abandon Connor.” He folded his fingers into a loose fist, hiding the scar across his palm.
“You’re facing six counts in the Eastern Empire Night Court! You’re loyal to a fault.”
“Impossible.” He said the word exactly the way she had, placing equal emphasis on each of the syllables.
She stared at him as if he spoke a foreign language. He met her gaze without flinching.
He wasn’t a child any longer. He wasn’t trying to hide a broken window after a baseball went astray. He wasn’t hoping to lie his way out of mowing the lawn.
He was a man now. A warder. And he needed Linda’s help because she was the best witch he’d ever known. Not the strongest. Not the most politically connected. But simply the best follower of Hecate he could imagine.
He knew he had her when she pushed the plate of cookies across the table. “You’re going to present yourself to Heca
te on Samhain, offering your warder’s bond with an unknown witch, without benefit of coven or magicarium?”
“If you say you’ll help me.” He got the words out. But then he could only hold his breath, waiting.
Finally, she sighed. “What do you need me to do?”
“Tell me what it feels like to work with crystals,” he said. “I know the basics—which stones are good for what, how to store your power in a matrix, how to magnify it in the crystal. But what stones are best to learn with? What order should she use? And how can I keep her from exhausting herself every time she works on something new?”
Linda laughed. “You don’t ask for much, do you?” She got up to grab the carafe of coffee. “It looks like we’re both going to need another cup.”
37
Now that David had spoken to Linda, everything fell into place.
He came to Jane’s home every evening, giving her just enough time after work to change out of the ridiculous colonial costume her library employer required. As he prepared dinner to give her the ballast she needed for serious magic work, Jane gushed about her day. In short order, he’d become intimately familiar with the Peabridge’s collection of early colonial almanacs, Jason Templeton, the library’s surveys of farm boundaries, Jason Templeton, the circulation desk’s policies about lending the reference collection, Jason Templeton, and Jason, Jason, Jason.
David supposed it was a positive sign that Jane trusted him enough to share her infatuation with the professor. But he barely managed to bite his tongue when she launched into yet another explanation of the research she’d completed for the guy. Professor Templeton seemed to have perfected the art of conning gullible librarians into doing his work.
Not that David would say that to Jane. He was pushing boundaries enough, teaching her about witchcraft. As her warder—could he really call himself that?—he had no say in her private life. Absolutely none.
That’s what he reminded himself as he caught flashes of laughter in her hazel eyes. He shouldn’t even notice that she’d set aside her eyeglasses, that she was wearing contacts now. He shouldn’t think about the way her cheekbones angled as she bowed her head to concentrate on crystals.
