Witch in the Wind (Bandit Creek Books)

by Brenda M. Collins

  He ground his teeth to dispel the worry crawling over his skin. Slipping Avy’s hand into his, he elbowed their way through the crowd, which after their initial fright, seemed to have calmed to curiosity.

  He’d counted on having more time. To look around town, check out the Gwynns. Then there was Avy. An unexpected twist in his case. She needed time to get to know him. Trust him.

  Time had just run out. In the corner of his eye, he saw Sheriff Morgan and Deputy Medicine Crow hoofing it, at top speed, toward the bank and them. It was clear from the look on their faces that this was not part of the festivities.

  Hell and damnation, why did Kai have to be honeymooning? Marcus gave himself a mental shake. It wasn’t like him to get ahead of himself in an investigation. To get this tense.

  He had no real authority here in the mortal world, but his instincts were on high alert. He needed to find out who he was chasing before the mortals noticed anything unnatural was happening. He really didn’t want to mess with their crime scene if he could avoid it. Mutual respect and all that. It was a tricky balance hiding his supernatural world from mortals while living up to the most basic rule of magic, ‘And harm to none’. He sighed. It wouldn’t be the first time the balance he chose pushed his respect for mortal law into third place.

  Marcus realized Avy hadn’t made a sound since the blast. He looked down at her now. Her face was pale as a cloud and her lips had taken on a blue cast.

  He skidded to a stop and turned her towards him. “Avy?” He chaffed her cold hands between both of his larger ones. “It’s okay, Avy. You’re safe.”

  She stared up at him, panting in a quick succession of shallow breaths. It wasn’t from running.

  Damn! He could feel her lungs screaming for air, her heart sucking the blood back from her extremities. Her aura faded to pale grey.

  “Avy, you’re hyperventilating.”

  He slid his hands up her arms, massaged her rigid shoulders and looked straight into her eyes.

  “You have to slow your breathing or you’ll pass out.”

  She blinked but didn’t seem to be able to move.

  He scanned around them for a paper bag or something else he could use to cover her mouth and regulate her breathing. Nothing.

  “Avy, you have to slow your breathing. I’ll help you.”

  He leaned down and gently put his mouth over hers. He breathed in her over-oxygenated breath and released his own evenly. In and out. In and out. Her heart hammered against his chest. He stroked her back opening the energy channels through his hands. Finally, he could feel her body relax. Her breathing slowed and her heartbeat along with it. He brought his hand up meaning to check her pulse but, instead stroked her cheek and deepened the kiss.

  He felt the moment she started to respond. He could have stopped there. Maybe. But he didn’t. He stroked his tongue across her lips. She let him in. She tasted of cinnamon and fresh mountain air. Her hands crept up his arms and tightened just above his elbows. Hanging on. Just like him. This was no longer first aid. He eased back and looked at her.

  Her eyes were half closed. Her color had gone from stone to the pale flush of rose. Her breathing was still a bit irregular but not from hyperventilation now. His own was just as uneven.

  She swallowed and dropped her eyes. “Thanks. I’m okay now.” Her cheeks deepened to red.

  He stepped back to give her space to relax. To distract himself, he looked over towards the bank and considered how he could get closer to the scene.

  Deputy Adam Medicine Crow was pushing through the crowd, reassuring people as he went. Murmurs of gas leak and nobody hurt swirled around them as people lost interest and went back to the festivities in the park. Marcus felt tension pull at his shoulders and snake down his spine. Adam was heading directly towards them. On first meeting, you might think the deputy was a simple rural lawman. You’d be wrong. For a mortal, the man’s aura shimmered with exceptional intuition, probably evolved over generations. Not magic, but not far from it. Shamanic maybe. Marcus tried to keep his distance whenever he was in town.

  When Adam reached them, he gave Avy a full body hug. “Sorry about your parents. But I’m glad you’re back.” He stepped back from her but kept his hands on her shoulders. She didn’t pull away from him. Marcus felt a jab of something in the pit of his stomach. The deputy must have sensed Marcus’s reaction. He smirked. “We’ve known each other since we were five, Marcus. Small towns,” he added with a shrug as if that explained everything. Marcus knew enough about Adam’s reputation with the ladies to put his arm around his witch. He caught himself in mid-motion. Am I actually marking my territory? Damn.

  Adam’s tone was serious when he turned his attention back to Avy. “Sheriff wants to see you.”

  Her face was still waxy. She looked from Adam to Marcus and then back to Adam. “Me? Why?”

  Adam looked away as if to escape answering her.

  The color rose in her cheeks. “Does this bomb, or explosion, or whatever it was, have to do with my parents?” she asked, her voice hoarse with the emotion she held at bay.

  Adam looked at her, his face reflecting a struggle between compassion and duty. “Better talk to the sheriff,” he said.

  Marcus felt her fingers spasm in his hand. He tightened his hold. She didn’t ask him to go with her, but he didn’t give her a choice. The Gwynn murders and the explosion were connected. And magic had something to do with both. Marcus had a terrible feeling he knew what that something was. It was bad. Really bad.

  Chapter Six

  Avy's head was still spinning. Both men were looking down at her with concern. She cleared her throat hoping more air would reach her lungs. She wasn't sure what had just happened.

  The force of the explosion had hit her like the blast from a furnace. The shock knocked her brain into overdrive. Suddenly she couldn’t process the overload of traumatic events any longer. The shock and grief of the last few days blocked the passageway to her lungs leaving her gulping for air. Just as her vision seemed to tunnel, narrowing, she saw the beautiful lights. Each a kaleidoscope of color. Then strong hands anchored her. A gentle mouth breathed soothing, warm air into her lungs. Hidden deep inside, Avy felt something unique and fragile tingle with life. Like the prickling static she’d been feeling in her fingertips, only stronger. It grew, seemed to crackle and arc like an electrical current, as it reached out to Marcus.

  What kind of a vet can kiss like that? Avy shivered and touched a finger to her lip where it still felt numb from the experience. She had to wonder what in the name of the good Goddess was happening to her.

  She avoided looking at Marcus but, with a sharp nod to Adam, led the way to the bank building.

  Adam opened the main door, stepped through. He kept his hand on the door until Marcus reached over her head to hold it. She caught up with Adam, before looking back. The setting sun was behind him shining through the doorway, and outlining his body with a warm glow of amber.

  “At least it’s only one color.” Avy said, thinking of his weird and beautiful eyes.

  Adam turned to look at her. “What was that, Avy?”

  She shook her head. Yup, losing my mind. They continued through the foyer. She expected to smell smoke but that wasn’t it. There was a haze still floating in the sunbeams, with a pungent smell, but more like a match than a fire.

  With a start, she recognised the smell. It smelled just like the scorch marks on the lawn. Dynamite maybe? Why would someone throw dynamite at the house? Maybe her parents were just bystanders who got in the way. Collateral damage—but of what? She couldn’t believe anyone’s discomfort with her parents’ pagan religion had escalated to something more threatening? Not in Bandit Creek.

  Marcus took her hand again as they passed the teller wickets. They stepped carefully trying to avoid the shards of glass, bits of wood and other debris as they made their way to the back.

  Sheriff Morgan stood waiting for them at the vault door. Or at least where the vault door used to be. It had
been blown off its hinges and outward into the counter area, sending pamphlets and forms flying. The sheriff reached out and clasped her hand. With a head nod, he sent the deputy to look after other duties.

  “Sorry to drag you in on this, Avy. I know you’ve been through so much already,” he said.

  “It’s okay, Sheriff.” The afterglow of Marcus's kiss still made her feel grounded. She stole a look back at Marcus. He was standing motionless behind her but his eyes were scanning every detail of the scene as if the robber might jump out and attack them at any moment. More like a bodyguard than a vet. Confident. Safe. She turned back to the sheriff and asked, “What does this have to do with Mom and Dad?”

  Sheriff Morgan looked surprised but then shrugged and motioned her into the vault. She followed and felt Marcus at her back. The odd smell was stronger in here. “Do you know what caused the explosion yet, Sheriff?” she asked, still thinking it might be dynamite.

  “Not yet,” he said. “But the strange thing is the apparent target.”

  He pushed back his Stetson and rubbed his forehead as he looked across at the row of security boxes.

  “Lots of people put stock certificates and other valuables in their security boxes, Sheriff. Robbers would know that.”

  “Yup,” he replied, looking back at her. “But why were they only interested in your parents’ box?”

  She felt her mouth drop open. When no words came to mind, she snapped it shut. Stepping closer, she could see that the sheriff was right. Despite the evidence of the blast around the door of the vault, the inside was relatively undisturbed. Scanning the rows of boxes, it was obvious that only one space was empty. The ones on either side of it showed scorch marks but were still closed. Only one security box had been taken by the robbers.

  She felt movement behind her and then Marcus was standing by her side making the bank vault feel small and cramped. His strong arm came around her waist.

  “Do you know what your parents kept in their box?” he asked gently.

  She searched her mind for the answer. It didn’t exactly surprise her that her parents had a safety deposit box. Most people had one, didn’t they? It wasn’t something she would have talked to them about specifically.

  “Ah, I guess their insurance papers.” With a stab to her heart, she added, “Maybe their will?”

  The sheriff’s eyes were deep wells of compassion. He nodded to Marcus as if tossing an invisible ball into his court.

  “Honey, think hard. Did they have anything special in it that you remember? Jewellery, maybe?”

  Something tugged on her memory. Some paper she’d seen recently. She concentrated trying to retrieve it. She didn’t want to think about yesterday. Or the day before. The harder she thought the more she wanted to cry. Couldn’t she break out of this cloud of sadness that had fallen around her? She was so tired of reeling from one shock to the next. Feeling overwhelmed with grief.

  There it was. The mental picture. She was in the living room the day before, sifting through the papers on the floor.

  She looked at Marcus, trying to draw in some of his strength. She was startled when the eyes looking down at her were the purple blue of an amethyst. As his gaze settled on her face, he blinked, and his irises flickered back to normal—or at least normal for him. She squeezed her eyes closed and then looked again. Warm hazel eyes looked back at her. Deciding it must have been sensory overload, she focused back on the paper she’d found.

  For his benefit, she explained, “The house was ransacked when my parents were murdered.” Then turning back to the sheriff, she said, “I came across a lot of papers when I was cleaning up yesterday. One of them was an insurance record for things in the house. But you know my parents didn’t have anything of much value.”

  The older man nodded without comment.

  “I didn’t look at it too closely but, next to a couple of the items, Dad scribbled ‘Safety Deposit Box’. It made me think I should check the box in case my parents left any instructions about the house—or their funeral.”

  A twisting pain in her chest caught her breath on the last word. Her throat was so tight she could barely raise her voice above a whisper.

  “I think one of the items was ‘Family Heirloom Jewelry’ or something like that. I can’t think of any of the other things on it.”

  “I can take her home to get it now if you want, Sheriff.”

  “No big rush.” The older man shrugged and then ushered them out of the tight vault space as he spoke. “I’ll be tied up here for the rest of the day. We’ll have to bring the techs in from Missoula to find the source of the explosion. We don’t have anyone here who can do that sort of thing.”

  “I’ll go through my parents’ papers more carefully, Sheriff. If I find anything about the box I’ll bring it in to you tomorrow.” Avy made her way back over the debris trail to the exit.

  Evening was approaching as Marcus guided her to the sidewalk outside the bank with his arm around her shoulders.

  As they continued their walk back through the park, most of the crowd dispersed. Quiet settled over the park. Most of the kids had gone home for supper but Avy could still recognize a few faces. Shipley, the handyman, was prying apart a kiosk and tossing the lumber into a wagon. George and Lucy were rolling their portable barbeque grill back to the diner, its rubber wheels squeaking as it bumped along the boardwalk. The man she’d seen with the mayor at Ma’s Kitchen that morning was standing off to one side of the park leaning on a walnut tree. And, of course, Jack was staggering back towards his favourite bench now that his territory was vacated.

  She took a deep breath. After the stench of the explosives, her nose seemed sensitized to the fresh scent of trees and grass, moist earth, mountain air. Finally, she put words to the thought that had been burning inside her. “What the hell is happening here, Marcus?”

  When he didn’t answer, she looked up at him. He seemed lost in thought at first, but feeling her stare, he stopped walking. “I’m sorry you’re caught in the middle of all this, Avy,” he said. “I wish there was some way to keep you out of it.”

  It seemed an odd thing to say, but she could feel how deeply he felt about it. She noticed lines of strain around his eyes that had not been there this morning. She knew—call it woman’s intuition—but she was certain there was something seriously bothering him. She could feel it as if his reaction were her own. She was equally certain he would not tell her what it was.

  He took her face between his hands, and kissed her forehead. “Are you all right?”

  “As much as can be expected,” she said as she let herself lean into his chest. “Under the circumstances.”

  She felt a hard edge under her cheek. She looked up just as Marcus tugged the chain around his neck revealing a pendant at the end that had been tucked under his shirt. Remembering the one she’d seen her parents with when she was very young, she struggled to hide the ragged breath she drew in as she swallowed yet another wave of threatening tears.

  He wrapped his arms around her and tucked her under his chin.

  She could hear his heart beating with calming regularity. Hers felt like it was learning some new drum tattoo.

  He didn’t step away and gradually her own pulse slowed to match his rhythm.

  After a moment, he asked, “Do you have any idea what kind of jewelry was stolen?”

  She could feel the rumble of his voice in his chest as he spoke. “You know, now that I think about it.” She backed up so she could look up at his face. “My parents really didn’t have much jewelry.”

  She raised her hand and flashed the heavy silver ring. “Just their wedding rings.” She moved her hand to lay flat on his chest. “And a medal.”

  He stiffened. “Medal?”

  “I’m not sure what to call it exactly. More of a pendant—” She leaned back into his chest. But somehow it didn’t feel quite so comfortable now. With everything that she’d been through, the Fates themselves couldn’t comfort her. Marcus just wanted to help he
r figure out what was going on. She hadn’t thought about the medal in years. Her parents never mentioned it to her and she’d never asked. “I haven’t seen it since I was really little. At the time, I thought it was a medal.” She told him how, one night long after she’d been tucked in bed, she slipped out of her room and overheard her parents talking. When she’d peaked around the doorframe, her mother was holding a beautiful pendant. But her father looked at it as if it were cursed. Something in his voice scared her so that Avy had crept back to bed.

  She’d never seen the medal in the house again, yet that memory was still vivid in her mind’s eye. “Even after all this time, just remembering the look on Dad’s face that night still gives me the chills,” she said, as she smoothed her palm over the front of Marcus’s shirt. “That pendant looked a lot like the one you’re wearing today.”

  Chapter Seven

  “She’ll be fine.” Marcus fingered his amulet as he watched Avy’s Ford Focus disappear over the bridge at the top of Main Street. He couldn’t afford to spend any more time with the witch. For a lot of reasons.

  Demons balls, what a day. He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes until he saw stars. With one childhood memory, she’d told him everything but who-done-it as the mortals would say. He was as sure as he could be, the killing of her parents, the bank robbery, all of it, was about the Goddess Amulets. Only Guardians of The Otherland had the amulets. When the five families were chosen for Council, the Goddess gave each a unique amulet. It was worn by the family Guardian until he or she ascended, as a Master Witch to Council and then passed on to the next Guardian within the family. The two murdered Guardians, Eavan Kemena and Devlin Gwynn, were wearing theirs when they ran from Council in 1911.

  Marcus turned on his heels, and tripped over Busby.

  “What are you doing here? Avy thinks you’re home waiting for her.”