“How horrible,” she murmured. “I thought Austin was bad, but you must have felt so hurt when your family turned on you like that.”
“I suppose I did, but it happened so long ago, my children’s children have died of old age.” He added softly, “And it was nothing compared to what came next. War was breaking out. I backed out of old business interests and moved the bulk of my capital to America. In the meantime, I grew desperate to understand how to handle my awakening Power, so I traveled to see the only man I knew who might be able to help. That was the worst decision I’ve ever made.”
Chapter Eleven
Molly had been so mired in the destruction of her life as she knew it, she would have said nothing could pull her out of her own misery.
Yet Josiah managed to do just that. Fascination and curiosity ran rampant as she listened to his story. He omitted place names and other identifiers, but there were a few clues, like his ties to the railroad industry, that gave her enough fuel for some conjecture.
If her guess was right about his language of origin, then he had lived in the Russian Empire in the late nineteenth or early twentieth century. She rifled through her history education. The war that broke out… could it have been World War I?
Her coffee had gone cold, but she sipped it anyway as she watched him. The spring sun threw shadows over his expression. There was a rough elegance to the strong bones of his face and frame, a sense of tough endurance that had enormous appeal. The more contact she had with him, the stronger that appeal grew.
She still wasn’t sure she liked him. But she was beginning to understand how difficult events had shaped his nature, and when push came to shove, he had been there for her multiple times. Astonishingly so.
“If only we could talk to our younger selves,” she muttered wryly. “Think of the pitfalls we could have avoided.”
“I wouldn’t skip one of them.” His voice turned hard. “Each one taught me something. I survived, and I’ll never be trapped by those mistakes again.”
Respect stirred. She tilted her coffee mug at him. “Good attitude.”
He gave her a cynical smile. “Having said that, the next several years of my life were a nightmare. The man I went to see was a court favorite and had powerful influence over the royal family. He was a very old witch—and there’s something you should know about very old witches. If you choose, as some of us do, to extend your life, eventually our Power runs down and our human bodies rebel as the longevity spell fades. Then what you would have fallen prey to during your normal lifespan will still occur, and often it hits harder. Cancers, heart attacks, strokes, dementia, renal failure. The longevity spell only delays the inevitable. In my opinion, it’s well worth it to live potentially hundreds of years, but eventually every witch faces a choice. Either they exit their lives with integrity, or they steal what is forbidden—someone else’s Power.”
“Oh no,” she murmured. The ache in her fingers made her realize she was gripping her mug too hard. She made a deliberate choice to relax.
“Oh, yes. I had a lot of Power, and I didn’t know what to do with it. As worldly as I had become about everything else, I was helpless as a baby about this one thing. And that old witch had made his choice long before me to feed off the Power in others. At his behest, the royal family threw me in prison on trumped-up charges, where I was held indefinitely. He had access to see me whenever he wanted. Every time my Power started to return, he sucked me dry until I’d forgotten what it was like to live without a raw, empty wound at my core. That went on for years.”
She swallowed. “I can’t imagine. It’s been bad enough to lose mine for a few hours. How did you keep from going crazy?”
He raised one eyebrow. “You’re assuming I haven’t.”
“You’re hard and single-minded, and you can be thoughtless, but you’re not crazy,” she said with certainty. “How did you get free?”
“He disappeared for a while. I found out later someone had tried to assassinate him. Everyone thought he was dead. I believe he took the opportunity to reinvent himself. It’s an old tactic many of us have used. Historically, long-lived witches have not been welcome in many communities. Sometimes they’ve been hunted and burned—and the royal court hadn’t realized he was a witch.”
“Nobody noticed anything odd about him?”
He gave a cynical shrug. “He’d been known as a holy man who performed miracles of healing on their prince, but they didn’t call that magic. They called it religion.” After a pause, he continued. “Then there was a revolution—well, two, actually—and the royal family was slaughtered. The world went to hell. I escaped in the chaos and eventually relocated here. I soaked up every scrap of magical knowledge I could find and studied law. I trained to become the best fighter I could and a crack shot, and when I got enough experience, I started a careful, patient search for him.”
“You’re sure he’s still alive?”
“I’m positive.” His expression turned thoughtful. “I wasn’t his first victim, and I was far from his last. I’ve been able to build up a network of support from some of his survivors. We’ve been hunting him for a long time, and it led us here.”
“That sounds crazy,” she said. “Don’t get me wrong. I believe you, but things like that don’t happen here. What would you call him, a vampire witch?”
“Like I said before, I’m not into labels.” He shrugged. “But that one fits well enough.”
She waved a hand. “You get my point. Woo-woo stuff happens somewhere else. It’s astonishing that what started so long ago in another part of the world might be coming to a head here, of all places.”
“That may be precisely why it’s coming to a head here. Think of this big, beautiful city filled with humans crowded together like so many sheep. It’s not the seat of an Elder Races demesne, and it has no other major competing Power. Charleston is a bit close, but the Elven High Lord is well known for being disinterested in matters that lie beyond his Wood. And there’s a distaste for magic here that adds blinkers of denial to the public eye. You said it yourself—magical events happen elsewhere, not here in good old Atlanta. That kind of denial makes an excellent hunting ground for an old, rapacious wolf.”
She shuddered. She was beginning to feel shaky again, so she pushed to her feet. “I think I’d better do as you said and eat something.”
He unfolded from his chair. “As soon as you have, I’ll cast more healing spells, but right now I’m going to start acquiring your documents, money, and a new vehicle.”
“And a new phone,” she added quickly. “Or at least a new phone card. It’s only fair, since you destroyed my last one.”
He sighed. “And a new phone.”
She drew to a halt and looked up at him. “You’ve already done a lot, and you’re continuing to do so much more. I won’t forget this, Josiah.”
His expression turned inscrutable. “My help doesn’t come without strings. If it looks like a legal battle is the right way to go, I may call on you to testify. Will you agree to do that?”
She hesitated. “As long as you do everything in your power to make sure I’m safe while I’m testifying, then yes.”
Satisfaction gleamed in his hooded gaze. “It’s a deal.”
She followed him back down to the basement, which no longer seemed quite as creepy. When he walked into the monitor room, she rummaged in the fridge, but nothing appealed.
“Would it have hurt you to pick up a few chocolate bars for the woman in distress?” she muttered.
His sigh was audible from the other room. “I’ll try to remember to pick up chocolate tomorrow after work.”
She paused. “You’re going to work?”
“It’s more important than ever that I’m seen to keep a normal schedule.”
“That means I’ll be stuck here by myself all day, and you don’t even have cable.” She pulled a face. “I know it shouldn’t matter.”
He appeared in the doorway and rounded the corner. She thought she hear
d him mutter, “High-maintenance, high-dollar mammal.”
“I’m not ungrateful,” she said warily as she straightened.
He clamped both hands onto her shoulders and looked into her gaze. After a moment, he said with severe patience, “There’s a country store about two miles away. I’ll see if they carry any magazines or books.”
The heaviness she had been carrying ever since she woke up lightened just a little. “Would you be so kind? I’d appreciate that so much.”
“I’m not kind,” he said through his teeth.
She backpedaled quickly. “No, of course you’re not. In fact, you’re really quite horrible when you think about it.”
He made a sound she had never heard him make before.
“What?” she asked. “Too much?”
Then he pulled her against him gently and kissed her.
Gently.
Gentleness was not a good thing for her right now. Her mouth shook under his. He made the sound again and pulled her into his arms. She was too tired to withstand him and too heartsick to pull away from the comfort of his touch. A tear slipped out from one of her eyelids, and then another. Reaching up to wrap her good arm around his neck, she leaned against his strength.
He jerked his mouth away and told her in a strangled voice, “I’m going to the store now.”
The magnetic pull toward him had grown stronger than ever. It was hard to withdraw, but she made herself do it. Turning away, she wiped her eyes. “You do that.”
He took the stairs two at a time. Clearly he couldn’t get away fast enough from the situation. Big deal, she couldn’t get away fast enough from it either. Snatching up a sandwich and an apple, she went upstairs to eat.
He was gone longer than she expected. She finished her meal, and then, tiredness dragging at her sore limbs, she went back downstairs to take more ibuprofen and lie down. She turned off the light in the bedroom but left the door open. The image of Nina’s body haunted her and it hurt to breathe, but eventually she was able to drift into a doze.
The sound of the back door opening brought her to alertness. She listened to him descend the stairs. Then he moved around the unfinished area and bags rustled. When his footsteps came to the bedroom doorway, she said, “I’m awake.”
He walked to the side of the bed and dropped lightweight things onto the bed in front of her. Lifting her head, she looked at them. Six chocolate bars lay on the bedspread.
“Oh my God, you found chocolate.”
He set a stack of other things in front of her—three books and several magazines. Wonderingly, she picked up the first book. It was a used paperback, a romance. The second one was a Western, the third a thriller.
“I didn’t know what you like,” he said without expression.
“This is perfect. They’re wonderful.” She was thankful the room lay in such deep shadow, because the too-easy tears blurred her vision again.
“They’re not wonderful. They were seventy-five cents each.” He dropped one last item on the bedspread. It was a new prepaid phone, still in its packaging. “I figured you shouldn’t be out here alone without a way to get in touch with me, just in case. But if you use that to call anybody else you know, I will strangle you myself.”
“I won’t.”
He walked out as she pushed to a sitting position. She stared at everything. They were such simple items, just a few used books and magazines, some chocolate, and a phone. It was incredible how much better they made her feel.
She climbed out of bed to look for him. He knelt on one knee in front of the minifridge as he unboxed a cheap, off-brand coffee maker. A can of ground coffee and a packet of filters already sat on the fridge.
He was scowling, his expression irritable. “I bought more food. None of it is fancy, but there’s enough to eat for a day. You can take the phone when you go, but this coffee maker is mine.”
Who was this strange man, and what had he done with that bastard Josiah? She nodded, then realized he wouldn’t see it because he wasn’t looking at her. “Makes sense.”
He set the coffee maker on the minifridge, then straightened. “The computer’s off-limits. It’s password protected, and not in English.”
She held up both hands. “Not even going to try to decode it.”
Finally he looked at her. A muscle flexed in his jaw. “Fine. I’m going to cast as many healing spells as your body can handle. Then I have to head back to town. I have an eight a.m. staff meeting to prepare for.”
She didn’t want him to go and tightened her hands into fists. Forget about wondering where that bastard Josiah had disappeared to—who was this strange woman inhabiting her body? “I would appreciate a few more healing spells, but don’t tire yourself out. You’ve got a lot going on this week.”
“I’m not going to give you anything I can’t afford to give,” he said grimly. “We’d better get to it.”
Damn it, why didn’t he have any proper furniture down here? She looked around, at a loss, and only started toward the bedroom when he put a hand at the small of her back and urged her in that direction.
He flipped on the light as they entered the room. When she sat on the edge of the bed, he sat beside her. “I’m going to concentrate on your broken ribs this time.”
Terrific. This was going to suck, but it would be worth it to be able to breathe without the constant, nagging stab of pain. “Let’s do it.”
Twisting, he rested one hand on the mattress behind her and laid his other hand over the broken ribs until she felt surrounded, immersed in his presence. Then he began to speak in that foreign language, and sparks of his magic flew through the air.
She had enough time to notice the beauty and Power in it before pain slammed into her rib cage, squeezing her in a vise. She turned her face away.
After what felt like a hundred years, he paused, then said roughly, “Breathe.”
“Sure thing,” she wheezed.
He pulled her against his side, supporting her body until the vise around her lungs eased. Feeling light-headed, she didn’t bother to try to straighten. If he wanted to keep her sitting upright, let him.
He gently prodded her ribs. “Can you take any more?”
“Of course. Wouldn’t stop this much fun for the world.”
He snorted. “Now who’s full of bullshit? Let me know when you’re ready.”
Turning toward him, she knotted one fist in his shirt and tucked her face into his neck. “Ready.”
“You’re killing me,” he muttered.
The edge of his jaw came down on the top of her head, and he wrapped his arms around her. Then the torture began again. She endured until he finally fell silent.
“That’s it, I’m done.” He sounded hoarse. “Jesus Christ.”
Neither of them moved for a long time. She leaned against him. His arms remained locked around her. Finally she pushed at his chest, his arms loosened, and she straightened. When she met his gaze, she felt taken aback. He looked almost as if he hated her.
“What’s my phone number?”
After their exchanges, the number was etched indelibly in her mind. She recited it.
“Fine. I’ll be here sometime after work tomorrow. I don’t know when.” He stood. “Don’t call unless it’s an emergency.”
Anger stirred. It had taken him a while, but the bastard Josiah had finally put in an appearance. “You think I’m going to call to discuss the stock market or the weather?” she snapped. “Thanks for the healing spells, but don’t fucking patronize me.”
“Right.” A muscle bunched in his jaw. He walked out.
She stayed where she was. A moment later, the back door opened and shut, and the big house resettled around his absence.
The air felt strange and cold, and the basement had turned creepy again, but she could take a deep breath without pain. Pushing to her feet, she walked into the bathroom to inspect her reflection and torso.
She touched her cheekbone. It had not been twenty-four hours since Austin’s attack
, but the swelling had completely disappeared, and what remained of the bruises looked a good two weeks old. She could now hide the rest under makeup and pass for normal.
Damn it. She wanted to call Josiah.
Just to mess with him, she told herself. She would die before she admitted she wanted him to turn around and come back. Her skin still remembered the pressure from how he had held her.
She unboxed the phone and plugged it in so it could charge, just in case an emergency did arise. Then she brushed her teeth, crawled into bed, and slept like the dead for eighteen hours.
* * *
After the energy in their last spat, Josiah knew the safe house would have to be burning down around Molly’s ears before she dialed his number. Then he thought of the fiery outrage burning in her gaze.
Scratch that. She’d probably let the house burn.
Just as well. He needed a serious break from that woman. In fact, it would do him good to go a month without thinking about her. Then he might be able to yank himself back on track and stay there.
If only he could tear out the traitorous part of his brain that would not stop focusing on how beautiful she looked no matter how wrecked she was or how badly she was dressed.
On the nuances that shifted in her intelligent gaze like ripples over a deep, sky-blue lake. On how she took the agony from the healing spells without making so much as a goddamn peep—and he had known strong men who had cried under that kind of pain—or how the need to kiss her properly had begun to pulse in his blood like a fever.
He felt infected with her. It eroded the purity of purpose that had driven him through so many decades. Other thoughts crowded in, like wondering what it would be like to sleep late, tangled in the bedsheets with her long body resting against his. Or how luminous she would look if she were truly happy.
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