Spring Magic

by T. M. Cromer

  As the youngest of the Thorne sisters, she’d scarcely gotten to know her mother’s love before her mom had disappeared and been declared dead. Her father, in an effort to erase his painful memories, had traveled the world and ignored his daughters’ very existence. There was never a doubt that Preston Thorne loved his girls, but staying at home was torturous for him without their mother. In addition, her father contracted for the Witches’ Council and was always running off on one mission or another. The result was Spring’s parentless upbringing.

  It was the reason she’d sought out Knox at every opportunity. As kids, he used to take her mind off her loneliness. He’d acted as if having a child tagging around after him was no big deal. Whenever she would show up on the Carlyle estate, he had a horse saddled and waiting for her. It was as if he knew the exact moment she would arrive.

  He’d been kind to her, and she’d fallen head over heels for him. It helped that he looked like a hero from a romance novel: windswept, sun-bleached blond hair on the long side, sapphire-blue eyes shielded by thick brown lashes, and a generous smile that melted her from the inside out every time it flashed in her direction. Yes, Knox was the whole perfect package.

  Then one day, it all changed. All the kindness and caring he’d shown a lonely little girl evaporated into nothingness. If she were being truthful with herself, she knew the reason why. Somewhere around her fifteenth year, she’d decided to confess her love. Nineteen-year-old Knox had stared at her, aghast, and when she flung herself at his chest, he shoved her into a pile of horse manure.

  But Spring hadn’t given up. She bided her time and waited four years to try again. From that day on, she hadn’t stopped trying to make him see her for the grown-up woman she’d become. Each rejection stung worse than the last. But each one made her that much more determined to win his affections.

  However, nothing she did had worked. It was as if, once she turned fifteen, she’d ceased to exist for him. The only feeling he held for her was contempt. For six full years, she fought to make him see her. This past summer, Spring had finally gotten the message.

  She’d shown up in a bikini to retrieve her sister’s elephant from the Carlyle’s olympic-sized, backyard pool. Spring had preened and displayed her wares, certain Knox would wake up and see her for the desirable woman she was. Instead he’d shoved her into the water—right next to Eddie the Elephant.

  “Where’s your pride, Spring?” he’d asked scathingly. “You keep up with this little slut routine of yours, and some man is going to take you up on your offer. When he’s gotten what he wants and leaves you cold, you’ll have nothing but self-disgust as your companion.”

  “But I love you,” she’d whispered tearfully.

  He’d sneered and shook his head. “Grow up.”

  That confrontation had been roughly nine months ago.

  Since then, she’d avoided him whenever possible. She told herself he didn’t deserve the love she had to offer. And while it was said the Thornes only ever loved once, she was determined to disabuse her family of that notion. Determined to find another love who was worthy. But until that day came, the Tommy Tomlinsons of the world would have to do.

  She bit her lip and blinked back the tears of self-pity forming. Spring wanted nothing more than to teleport home, but to do so in front of a restaurant full of people would cause a sensation from which this town would never recover.

  “Knox, please let me out,” she asked quietly.

  His curt “I’m sorry” was grudgingly given and barely resembled an apology.

  Had Chloe not interrupted, Spring might have teleported anyway. “Please stay, Miss Spring. He promises to be nice. Right, Knox?”

  “Sure,” he agreed.

  Left with no choice because Knox didn’t intend to budge from his spot anytime soon, Spring nodded and kept her eyes glued to the menu. With false cheer, she asked, “What are we thinking about for dinner?”

  “Knox said we can get dessert first. I want a hot fudge sundae with extra fudge and sprinkles.”

  Spring’s laugh was genuine in the face of Chloe’s enthusiasm. “Good plan. Monica’s hot fudge sundaes are most excellent. I’ll have the same.”

  A cute brunette server showed up at their table. Her covetous dark-brown gaze was drawn to the beauty of Knox. “What will you have?” The huskiness in her voice was pure invitation, as was the flirty hand on his bulging bicep.

  Spring white-knuckled the plastic menu in order to keep from zapping the woman’s ass into next week. When she lost the battle to control her jealousy and contain the bolt of magic, salvation appeared in the form of her Uncle Alastair.

  2

  Alastair’s cold “you’re dismissed” worked better than any witchcraft Spring could’ve summoned. The skank scurried away as if her butt was alight.

  “Uncle Alastair. To what do we owe this pleasure?” Spring asked formally as she laid the worn menu flat on the table, aligning it with the table’s edge, then straightened the bottom edges of her already perfectly aligned eating utensils.

  She glanced up from her place setting to see three sets of eyes staring at her; Alastair’s in amusement, Knox’s in stunned disbelief, and Chloe’s in curiosity.

  A fiery blush started somewhere around the area of her chest and swept to the roots of her hair. Her obsessive-compulsive tendencies had gotten the better of her in her nervousness. The struggle was real and took everything she had to not straighten the rest of the table and wipe the water spots from the glasses and chipped Formica top.

  Alastair winked and forged ahead. “Since our last discussion, I have a better idea as to the location of Thor’s Hammer. I need you and your young man to retrieve it, pronto.”

  Her uncle referred to the Mjölnir amulet, also known as Thor’s Hammer. Legend stated that in addition to being the God of thunder and lightning, Thor was the God of healing and fertility. The original amulet’s setting housed a stone from Odin’s ring and had been blessed by Thor himself. The runes on the amulet also contained a spell for healing. Legend held that whoever possessed the amulet would have the power to heal anyone or anything.

  She frowned, unsure exactly why her uncle had sought her out for this particular scavenger hunt. She’d have preferred to head to Greece where the final artifact was last seen. “Tommy? He do—”

  “No, not Tommy. That boy can’t tie his own shoelaces without help,” Alastair said with a disgusted snort. He gestured for Chloe to scoot over and took a seat beside her. “I mean you and Knox.”

  Spring’s stomach dropped at such a rapid rate, she thought she might lose her cookies. “Uncle Alastair, Knox isn’t m—”

  Alastair waved off her objection and faced Knox. In a low voice, he said, “I know you moonlight for the Witches’ Council along with Preston. But for my niece’s sake, I hope you’ll make an exception and assist her in this.”

  “I haven’t—” she started only to be cut off by Knox.

  “What do you need me to do?”

  “There’s no way—” Spring objected, and this time Alastair spoke over her.

  “Like we discussed at our last meeting, I need you and Spring to head to South America.” Alastair pulled a faded map from inside his blazer pocket and laid it on the table.

  She reached for the map only to have it intercepted by Knox. “I can do—”

  “I need a little more to go on,” Knox told him.

  Frustrated at being ignored, Spring slammed her fist on the table, rattling cups, saucers, and silverware. This time when all the eyes turned to her, she was prepared. “Mind your own business,” she snapped at the other diners. She added a mental magical boost to her command, and all the patrons ducked their heads to concentrate on their meals.

  “Nicely done, child,” Alastair murmured approvingly.

  “It wouldn’t have needed to be done if you’d have actually included me in the conversation,” she retorted.

  “Are you crazy?” Knox hissed. “The Council frowns on that type of mass manipu
lation.”

  Alastair and Spring stared at him for a long moment before they blinked and faced one another again. Neither of them gave a damn about the Council, and their lack of acknowledgment stated it loud and clear.

  “As I was saying,” Alastair said, easily dismissing Knox’s indignant protests on behalf of the WC. “There is a short window to retrieve the object. After this week, it will be out of our hands for good.”

  “Why?” Knox demanded.

  “The last remaining Désorcelers council member won it during a private auction today.”

  “Zhu Lin? How do you know?” Spring asked.

  Alastair’s brows clashed together. “Seriously?”

  Spring waved a hand. “Forget I asked. You probably have spies everywhere.”

  “Close enough.” Her uncle summoned a server over for a cup of coffee. They all waited to continue until they were alone again. “Or at least I did. With Ryker’s cover blown and my back up mole MIA, I’m working blind. The last missive from my source stated that in exactly one week, Lin will take possession of the Hammer. I can’t risk letting that happen. We all know how dangerous he is. If Lin obtains a magical artifact with that type of power…”

  She nodded. Alastair didn’t need to complete the thought. It was easy enough to fill in the blanks. Two of her sisters, Autumn and Winter, had almost died at Zhu Lin’s hands. No one understood better than Spring that the man was dangerous. Slowly but surely, Lin had been building a small army to revitalize the Désorcelers organization, who was in direct opposition to the Witches’ Council and whose primary goal was to obliterate witches and warlocks from the face of the earth. More recently, Lin had tried to harness the magic of Spring’s sister Winnie in order to empower himself. He failed, which only served to make him more desperate and deadly.

  “Then I need to get in and get it immediately. Where is it being held?” she asked.

  “You aren’t going alone,” Knox stated as if his word were law.

  “I don’t answer to you, Knox Carlyle, and I certainly don’t want your help.”

  His eyes narrowed on her face. “But you do answer to the Witches’ Council like everyone else does. The council set out an order this week for all witches and warlocks to keep clear of Lin. Last I checked, you fell under that edict.”

  “Are you gonna run to the WC and tell on me?” Spring scowled her ire. “I expect no less.” A blast of power smacked into her side. “What was that?”

  “What?” Knox asked with feigned innocence.

  She cast a quick look about and lowered her voice. “The blast of energy. It was like a light hit to my side. Did you do that?”

  If he directed a blast so easily, then Knox was more powerful than she’d given him credit for. It was a rare witch who could manipulate energy to strike like he had. Was that why the Council had hand-picked him as their watchdog in the first place? Were they keeping the best of the best for their own little army? One didn’t get better than a Thorne witch or warlock, but other than Spring’s father, none of their family members had been drafted into the WC’s ranks, nor did they care to be. The Council was authoritarian by nature, and all the Thornes were rebellious at best. But the Carlyle’s tended to be rule followers. They would make the perfect candidates to recruit.

  Knox grinned down at her. His cockiness held major appeal. Spring was such a sucker. She ripped her attention from his beautiful face with great difficulty. The man was a walking dream. With his drop-dead good looks and penetrating blue eyes, he had many a woman’s heart beating faster. But she was no longer one of their ranks. She could channel self-denial with the best of them.

  “Regardless, I don’t need Knox’s help, Uncle. I’ve found no legend surrounding Thor’s Hammer that indicates it needs a couple to retrieve it. Tell me where it is, and I can be in and out in less time than it takes to blink.”

  “If you think you are going anywhere alone with that maniac Lin on the loose, then you’re crazy,” Knox stated. “Or foolish. Either way, you need a keeper.”

  There had been a time when Spring would’ve verbally battled him, but now, she decided to hold her tongue and bide her time. Once Alastair provided the rest of his intel, she would be able to slip away with no one being any the wiser.

  The flirty server—more subdued thanks to Alastair—returned to take their food order. Spring picked a dessert to share with Chloe, but declined an actual meal. As it was, she’d more than likely only pick at her food under the watchful gaze of Knox.

  * * *

  Knox frowned when Spring ignored his need-a-keeper jibe. Her failure to rise to the bait was disconcerting. Previously, she’d have gone toe-to-toe with him over a comment of that nature in her quest to prove she wasn’t a kid anymore. But now…

  He could put his finger on the exact moment she’d stopped challenging him: the last Thorne family meeting concerning Spring’s mother and the artifacts needed to revive her. When he’d called Spring out in front of the others, the ever-present spark of fire in her eyes had been snuffed out. Her pride had been stung, and yet, she’d lifted her chin like the fighter she was and gracefully exited the room. It had taken every ounce of willpower he had not to follow and beg forgiveness for being an ass.

  He had been a complete jerk to her during recent years in his attempts to circumvent her adoration. Any kindness on his part was interpreted as encouragement by her. Her youth and innocence scared the hell out of him. He didn’t want that type of commitment. In his experience, if anyone got too close, saw the real him, then they ran like hell in the other direction. He couldn’t bear it if Spring looked at him in disgust. Better to hurt her feelings now so that someday, they might salvage their old friendship.

  Surreptitiously, Knox intertwined his pinky with hers and tugged as he had when they were younger. Spring’s surprised face turned up to his. As he gazed down onto her stunning visage, he was overcome with a desire to touch, to feel, to bask in the sunshine that was Spring. She was everything perfect in the world. But she was, and always would be, hands off.

  Keeping his voice low for her ears alone, he said, “I’m sorry.”

  Her surprised inhale tempted him to drop his gaze to her chest, but his eyes remained locked with hers. A fleeting look, a clashing combination of hope and resignation, appeared and disappeared in an instant. When Spring dropped her gaze, nodded, and disconnected their pinkies, his stomach flipped. It seemed he’d done his job too well. She no longer held onto aspirations of being with him. And wasn’t that a knife to the chest?

  He tore his attention from Spring and met Alastair’s penetrating stare. The man missed nothing, but then, Knox wasn’t trying to hide his feelings from him; he only intended to keep Spring in the dark about his love for her.

  Alastair squinted as if he were trying to figure out what made Knox tick. He could’ve told the guy it was fairly easy to do. He cared about his horses, his cousins, and Spring; not necessarily in that order.

  The underlying truth was that he would always be there for the underdog in a fight. Had his Uncle Phillip not taken him in and saved him from a crappy home life at the age of eight, odds were Knox would’ve turned out a whole lot differently. But Phillip had granted him the gift of compassion and understanding at a young age. His uncle had shown a small boy that there was more to life than a fist to the face. There wasn’t much Phillip could do to make him feel worthy, but at least he’d learned that there were people in this world who cared. The very least he could do was to pay it forward.

  With a shrug to dismiss the past, he dug into his meal. He watched in amusement as Chloe chatted up Alastair. The surprise came when the older man answered playfully and paid marked attention to her, making her feel as if she were important. The kindness surprised him, and as Knox looked on, Alastair whipped out a credit card and showed Chloe how to palm it and flip it as if she were performing a magic trick.

  “Okay, your turn. Let’s see what you remember,” Alastair said to Spring.

  With a wicked lau
gh, she produced three credit cards—all in Knox’s name.

  “What the hell?” He felt for his wallet and scowled. “You taught her how to be a pickpocket?”

  “Not just me,” Spring said with a cheeky grin. “All the Thornes are well-schooled in larceny. We owe thanks to our great-great… how many greats were tacked onto our grandparents?” She waved a hand in dismissal before her uncle could answer. “Regardless, we had a very interesting upbringing.”

  “I’d say,” Knox muttered. “I’d like my wallet back now, please.”

  “Don’t fret, Knox, I wouldn’t have kept them.” She ruined her serious expression when she said, “I’d have returned them after I went shopping.”

  Alastair’s bark of laughter turned heads. Normally, his austere nature kept others at bay. “She’s delightful, don’t you think, Carlyle?”

  “She’s a pain in my ass,” he retorted.

  And in an instant, Spring lost her sparkle. Her expression carefully blank, she said, “On that note, I need to get back to the manor. I still have a few floral arrangements to create for tomorrow.”

  “Spring, I didn’t mean it the way it sounded.” He reached for her hand, but she drew back.

  “No worries. If you’ll excuse me… please.”

  He would’ve argued the point, but the coldness in her moss-green eyes said she wouldn’t be swayed. It bothered him that her irises had darkened—a witch’s emotional barometer and a clear indication of Spring’s unhappiness—all because of him.

  Knox looked to Alastair. For what, he didn’t know. Perhaps some clue as to how to proceed. Maybe to make sure the man wouldn’t strike him dead on the spot for being the biggest asshole on the planet.

  Alastair’s neutral expression told him nothing.

  “Will you be there when I come for training tomorrow, Miss Spring?” Chloe asked woefully. She, too, had picked up on the somber current.

  “For most of the day. But I do have deliveries mid-afternoon. Perhaps, if you finish up early enough, you can help me. Would you like that?”