Fire and Flame

by Anya Breton

  And then he’d said he didn’t care if she were fertile. There was no reason for them to be together otherwise.

  Was there?

  Sara had assumed the kisses over the past few days had been because Brent was trying to warm her to the idea of doing her duty with him. But if he had been telling the truth, then those kisses were something all together different.

  When she’d consider that maybe, just maybe Brent wanted more than a night of meaningless sex in the pursuit of a stronger race, she’d recall Vanessa Aine. If he truly wanted more from Sara, he never would have been with Vanessa.

  She paced a little faster until the thoughts came round to the beginning again. Consideration of her stupidity certainly upset her less than his being involved with another witch.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Sara felt like death warmed over when she stepped onto the stairs outside her room. Brent’s Nissan pickup had roared into the driveway at five in the morning. After making sure he was the male at the wheel, she’d crawled into bed. Then she’d tossed about in her bed for an hour before finally drifting off into a fitful half slumber until nine.

  It was pointless to try to rest any longer. Her stomach growled and her mind wouldn’t quiet enough to snooze. She could fix one of those problems in the kitchen.

  Colin Turner sat at the base of the stairs blocking the path. Sara stopped behind him, waiting for the obstacle to move. When he didn’t stretch a muscle, she inhaled an irritated snuffle.

  “Colin, let me by.”

  The witch didn’t budge. “Where are you going?”

  Sara snorted. “The kitchen.”

  He glanced back, eyeing her hands as if checking for keys or a purse. Once satisfied she was telling the truth, he pulled himself upright to his height of five foot nine. His carrot-colored hair curled underneath the edges of his vinyl Yankees baseball cap giving him a boyish air that was at odds with the grim expression stretched across his face. Sara noted his matching T-shirt and dirty jeans before breezing past him through the dining room.

  She’d dated Colin for exactly four days in the eighth grade. The interval was how long it had taken her daddy to find out about the relationship. Fintan had forbidden her to see the guy again. His princess wouldn’t become involved with a half-blood like Colin, he’d proclaimed. Sara had never understood why her daddy had allowed her to date vanilla humans like Freddy James but not half-blooded witches like Colin.

  In any case, she wouldn’t have been able to stomach hanging around with the redneck for much longer than those four days. He was simply too uncouth for her tastes. Seeing his attire today drove the idea home. And he smelled as if he hadn’t showered in days. As a Fire witch, the scent of his body odor was mixed with old ash. It was far worse than anything a vanilla human could pull off.

  Sara reached up into the cabinet for a bowl. She ignored Colin settling in front of the side door as she fetched her cereal out of the pantry. He was impossible to ignore when she went for the milk.

  “I need milk,” she explained with an impatient twist of her neck. “You’re in the way.”

  “I’ll get it.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You’re acting like I’m going to dart outside if you move for a half a second. I’m not.”

  “I’m on orders. Step back and I’ll get the milk.”

  Sara stepped back as demanded. “What orders?”

  He ignored her question as he fetched the milk. Colin held the bottle toward her. She settled her weight onto one hip without taking it from him, waiting for an answer. His response was to pop the cap and pour. Too much, far too fast.

  “Stop! That’s enough!”

  Colin lifted his shoulders negligently as he righted the bottle. He returned the milk to the refrigerator then took up his spot in front of the door.

  He really was trying to keep her in the house. Brent hadn’t been kidding when he’d said she wasn’t allowed to go anywhere without him or someone he’d sanctioned.

  “I want to talk to Brent,” she demanded once she’d shoveled two heaping spoonfuls of cereal into her mouth.

  “He’s not here.”

  Sara’s grip loosened on the bowl. She’d have heard Brent’s truck if he’d left. Brent had his friends lying for him now?

  Discreetly she checked the driveway to verify his absence. Brent’s blue pickup truck was exactly where she’d expected it to be. Was she brave enough to call Colin’s bluff? What would Brent do if she burst in on him in his room?

  Before last night, she’d have assumed he’d shout at her for waking him up. Now, she didn’t know what he’d do. And she was a little ashamed that a few of her guesses included him kissing her.

  Was that what she thought he’d do? Or was it what she wanted him to do?

  Sara tossed the bowl of cereal down then charged around the corner before Colin could stop her. She burst into Brent’s room, shoving the door closed behind her so the witch guarding her wouldn’t be able to interfere.

  Clothes lay strewn over every piece of furniture as well as on the floor. Yet a laundry basket of rumpled things sat beneath the window. There was a small line of cleared carpet in front of the bed. Space for pacing? Several black shirts hung in the closet beside a few pairs of black slacks—his funeral best. She made herself look at the bed.

  It was empty. That was the first point of note. The second was though it had once had sheets and a comforter, they were both in such a rumpled state it was clear if he’d slept in the bed this morning, it hadn’t been a peaceful rest.

  “He’s not here,” Colin growled on the other side of the door.

  Clearly Brent wasn’t in his room. But if his truck were outside, he had to be somewhere. She wrenched open the door to Colin’s surprise, and then shoved past him toward the office. He was close on her heels all the way inside.

  She quickly discovered no one sat behind the broad desk nor was Brent seated in any of the chairs within the room. If he weren’t in his room and the office was empty, then perhaps Colin had told the truth. But why was his truck still parked where it ought to be?

  Had she been wrong last night? Maybe it hadn’t been him who had gotten out of the cab of the pickup. She’d been certain because the body type had been correct and the way the male had carried himself—agile yet aggressively—had been exactly how Brent would have. If it hadn’t been Brent then who was it?

  Sara pushed past Colin toward the kitchen so she could finish her breakfast.

  “What the hell is all the racket?”

  She whirled on her heel toward the new voice. The male’s tenor pitch was familiar. Sara quickly saw why when the bushy eyebrows and half goatee of Perry Palmer appeared around the corner. If Perry’s wrinkled T-shirt were any indication, Brent had apparently invited his two closest buddies to stay over.

  “Are you under orders too?” she demanded angrily.

  Perry’s nearly black eyes squinted in confusion. “Huh?”

  She’d nearly forgotten he wasn’t terribly bright. It was why she’d dumped him after the winter dance and two months of dating in the ninth grade. They’d looked good together in the commemorative photo but Perry’s looks were about the only thing he had going for him. These days he barely had that much.

  Sara shook her head, signifying she wasn’t going to explain herself. Then she dug into the cereal to finish in a hurry so she could go back upstairs where they couldn’t follow.

  “You up?” Colin asked for Perry’s benefit.

  “Yeah, man. Crash,” was the response.

  Colin nodded once, and then cast a look over at Sara that would have frozen a lesser creature. Without a word, he started for Perry. His heavy footsteps pounded down the corridor past the other witch then on into the living room. In the distance, the splat of a body hitting the Italian leather sofa broke the hush.

  Apparently witches were sleeping on the sofa her father had loved. Fintan would have had a heart attack. True, Brent and Vanessa had taken up the two guest rooms. But her daddy wo
uld have arranged for the guests to stay at one of his other houses rather than mess up his sofa.

  Was that where Brent had gone? And if he had, would he come back?

  Sara slurped the last of the sugared milk in the bottom of her bowl, and then set the thing in the sink. She started toward the stairs without a word for Perry. He hurried behind her, no doubt to keep her from escaping out the front door. Little did he know she wasn’t actually dressed.

  Perry settled in on the stairs as Colin had. Sara faced him, intending to make a sharp comment. The view out the small double windows at the top of the door silenced her. Vanessa’s hybrid was missing. The hoyden hadn’t joined them for breakfast when she’d managed to interrupt the morning meal every other day. And Brent was also missing though his truck was still here.

  Sara’s features puckered. They were together. After he’d tried to put the moves on her last night, he’d come back this morning to pick up his other conquest.

  God. She was never happier she’d shot him down.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The knock on the door was barely heard over the music spilling from Sara’s earbuds. She tugged the left bud out on her way to see who it was. Perry stood on the other side looking sleepier than he had earlier. He stopped rubbing his eyes long enough to nod at her.

  “We’re ordering pizza. What do you want?”

  She had been hungry for a few hours. But not hungry enough to go downstairs where Brent’s buds would hassle her for getting too close to a door.

  “Supreme,” she told him. “But not from some crappy place like Pizza Hut.”

  “What’s wrong with Pizza Hut? I like them.”

  Sara inhaled a disgusted breath. “There are menus for the places Daddy and I like on the left side of the fridge. Order from one of those. Our favorites are highlighted in yellow.”

  She realized too late she’d referenced Fintan as if he were merely downstairs. Perry’s eyes crinkled a little. But he didn’t comment.

  “Royal snob,” he muttered on his way down the stairs instead.

  Sara twirled on the ball of her foot. He wasn’t worth her anger.

  But Brent was. Where was he? It had been hours. He still hadn’t come home. Maybe she should call him and bitch him out for leaving two imbeciles as protection.

  The high-pitched whine of a car echoed outside. Sara sprinted for the side window. Vanessa slipped out of the driver’s side of the hybrid she’d parked in the driveway. Sara continued watching out the window for someone else to get out of the passenger side.

  And then someone did.

  Derrick Montaña’s shoulder length hair was loose around his neck, swaying slightly as his gaze darted around the exterior like a soldier trained to look for threats. His eyes cast up. Sara quickly stepped away from the window. Her breath caught in her throat as her heart pounded.

  Derrick was the only Fire witch in their school besides Brent that Sara hadn’t dated. He’d been a senior when she’d been a freshman. But in truth he’d been far too intimidating to approach, more than even Brent. But the witch wasn’t too intimidating for Vanessa. They’d dated on and off throughout school.

  The clomping steps of people walking in the kitchen below her bedroom meant they’d entered. Soon the murmurs of discussion floated up through the floor. The deep voice speaking every few seconds surely belonged to Derrick. Did his appearance with Vanessa mean they were dating again? And if they were dating, would it mean the hoyden would get her claws off Brent?

  Sara shook her head, hoping to send the jealous thought away. Brent was high priest now. He could do whatever he wanted.

  Just as long as he let her go once they completed Fintan’s last wish.

  ****

  “Your majesty,” Perry’s harsh voice echoed up the stairwell into Sara’s room. “Your banquet awaits.”

  Sara gnashed her teeth. Though she was surprised the dolt even knew the word “banquet,” she was furious he’d insulted her. Drawing in a deep breath for serenity, she pulled her sweater tight around her arms against the air conditioning, and then started for the door.

  Voices filled the kitchen, four of them. Could she get away with grabbing a few slices of pizza, and retreating upstairs? Though she was a social creature, these four were not people she wanted to associate with.

  Head held high, she walked through the dining room toward the group. She couldn’t stop staring at Derrick. He’d managed to improve with age.

  Unlike Perry, his dark eyebrows were sculpted like graceful wings. But the way they slashed above his dark eyes was anything but graceful. And unlike Perry’s half formed goatee, Derrick’s stubble was sexy. With a straight nose that tilted up at the bottom in a noble way and lips that looked wicked even when at ease, he was by far the hottest Fire witch in the greater Indianapolis region.

  His wicked lips opened, smiling slightly. “That can’t be Sara McKenna.”

  She allowed her eyebrow to lift at him.

  “That’s her,” Vanessa grumbled under her breath.

  “The last time I saw Sara she had no tits,” Derrick’s deep voice rumbled in what sounded like amusement. He waited until Sara stepped onto the stone floor before speaking directly to her. “You sure grew up.”

  There really wasn’t anything to be said to that. Instead, Sara grabbed a paper plate from the stack the delivery guys had left. The witches had ordered Pizza Hut after all but she was hungry enough to eat nearly anything.

  Sara lifted the lids to peruse her choices. It appeared to be meat, meat, and more meat. She had no idea why Perry had bothered to ask her what she’d wanted when he hadn’t listened to a thing she’d said. Angry that he’d blatantly ignored her, Sara snatched up a slice with the least amount of meat on it, and then stalked toward the dining room.

  “You leaving us, princess?”

  Her back went rigid. Even Derrick used the derisive nickname.

  Sara wanted to head out the front door now that they were all in the kitchen. She hadn’t thought to bring her keys. Not to mention she’d learned her lesson in the cemetery yesterday.

  So she’d eat her carnivore pizza in the privacy of her room and pray they would all leave her alone.

  ****

  Derrick had the watch when Sara braved the morning for breakfast. Unlike Colin, he didn’t ask her where she was going when she started down the stairs. Merely standing when she reached him, he stepped aside for her to go into the dining room. But she felt his attention on her. No doubt he was checking out her backside. Thankfully she’d pulled the long sweater over her tank top before she’d left her room.

  After several days of cereal, Sara wanted something else for breakfast. Something else would require cooking. Cooking would require remaining downstairs while it finished. And custom dictated she make enough for the guests. She could continue being rude if she had cereal.

  Decision worked through, Sara grabbed a bowl from the cupboard then fetched the box from the pantry. Derrick settled in the dining room doorway with his arms folded in front of his chest and his body lazily bent against the wall. She ignored him and went about her usual business.

  Discreetly she checked the driveway for the pickup truck while she poured the flakes into her bowl. It was parked where it had been since early Tuesday. The hybrid still sat where Vanessa had left it last night. No additional vehicles had arrived and none had gone missing. If Brent had come home, he’d already left again.

  Once her bowl was arranged with milk and a spoon, Sara took it down the corridor to the office. Derrick trailed her. She tossed the door closed. It didn’t catch in the jamb.

  “I can’t remember how many times I was called here to receive a stern talking to by Fintan,” Derrick said in his deep, amused voice from inside the office.

  Sara settled in the chair in front of the desk. The one beside her was used as a leg rest simply to keep Derrick from taking it. Quickly she regretted her decision.

  The dark-haired witch stepped around, taking up the position beside
Fintan’s chair. Dark eyes stared down at her. He gestured to the brown leather manager’s chair. “Think I’d go up in flame if I sat in it?”

  If she’d been a typically aggressive Fire witch, she might have told him she’d make sure he did. Even Brent hadn’t tried to use the old high priest’s chair. Until then, she hadn’t considered he would. Or that Brent had shown a good deal of respect for the dead by failing to do so.

  Her lack of a response bored Derrick. The witch stepped away from the chair toward the bookcase to the right.

  Without turning, he asked, “Are you giving us all the silent treatment or just me?”

  Sara’s chin rose. “I’m not giving anyone the silent treatment. No one is saying anything worthy of a response.”

  Derrick’s head shook slowly. “Phoenix, you’re such a stuck-up bitch.”

  Sara adopted her cheeriest smile. “Thanks.”

  He glanced back long enough to see her show of feigned brightness. A snort left his chest. “You don’t even care that we all think you’re a spoiled brat. You perpetuate the myth.”

  She had to give him kudos for using a word like perpetuate when the other witches in the house would have merely stared at him blankly.

  Maybe she was a stuck-up bitch. Or maybe half the local coven was low class compared to the McKenna brood. In any case, she had no intention of changing who she was to make them like her.

  “Someone needs to bring you to heel,” he went on when she didn’t argue. “You need to be humbled until you realize you’re no better than the rest of us.”

  But she was better. Sara had absolutely no doubt if she put her mind to it, she could become one of the most famous Fire witches in the country…at least in the vanilla human world. And then witches like Derrick would fall at her feet for a few seconds of her attention.

  He shook his head in what looked to be disgust then started for the door.

  “Where is Brent?” The words had come out of her mouth before she knew what she was doing.

  Derrick swung toward her. “He’s not here.”

  Colin had used the exact words, as if Brent had ordered them all to give the answer.