Charmed and Dangerous: An Appalachian Magic Novel (Appalachian Magic Series Book 1) (14 page)

Connors’s face flushed. “A few specially-selected immortals have banded together. With Lucas as our leader, we can rule the world. We want you to join us.”

“No, it’s
Lucas
who would rule the world. The rest of you are tools to help him increase his own power. I want nothing to do with you.”

“You’re wrong. Lucas has talents you’ve never seen. Combined with his immortality, he’s nearly invincible. If he’s right about Callie’s skills, she’ll expand our coven’s power to unconquerable heights. That’s
if
she’s really his biological child. I have my doubts, but I’m always one to hedge my bets. If you’re smart, you’ll join us.” He stopped tapping his pencil, a cagey look creeping over his face.

“Not interested. At all. Some of us don’t find it necessary to kill each other, and we don’t care about world domination. All I want is to be left alone.”

“You’re taking a chance with a female witch, you know. Callie has the power to bind you. You could end up giving her all your fortune, become her lap dog, and answer to her every desire for . . . oh, let’s say . . . seventy years or more?”

“She wouldn’t do that.”

“You are pathetically trusting, James.” Connors shook his head in mock regret.

“I don’t trust
you
.”

“And yet you trust Carter, the man you call ‘father’? Perhaps he isn’t the paragon of virtue you imagine.”

James struggled to keep his expression neutral. Another quiver of doubt crept in his mind about the man who had taken him under his wings. With a great show of indifference, he shrugged. “I don’t care what you think of me or my family, but stay away from Callie. If you hurt her, I’ll kill you.”

“You could try.”

“That’s a promise. And I’ll be on the lookout now for you and your . . . coven.” He turned his back on Connors. For the first time in his immortal life, he wanted to attack and be the aggressor. He wanted to smash the man’s face for threatening Callie and making him doubt Carter. He needed to leave before he gave into those animalistic urges.

His hand closed on the doorknob when Connors fired his parting shot.

“Tell me, lover boy, how’s your dog?”

How did Connors know? James stilled and then left, slamming the door so hard the frame almost came undone.

About half a dozen students gaped at him as he walked by.

“Wha . . . what have you done?” The secretary rose and tried to look around James into Connors’s office.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to close the door so hard,” he said with nonchalance. Several of the students gave him a silent thumbs-up signal as Mrs. Campbell rushed into Connors’s office.

C
allie giggled
at James’s expression of resigned doom. “It’s not so bad,” she assured him as she drew him into the den. “And it won’t take but ten minutes. Tops.”

“No hexes? No turning me into a toad?”

His voice was light, but she knew being in a roomful of witches wasn’t easy for him. “You’re perfectly safe.”

The buzz of conversation stopped as they entered. About a dozen coven members crowded the small space including Tanner, Michael, and Skye. James had reluctantly agreed to Mom’s request to cast a protection spell for him.

“I’ll do it because she saved Sin and because it’ll help ease your family’s mind,” he’d said. “My faith is in my own cunning and strength. That’s what has kept my head attached to my neck all these years.”

“It can’t hurt,” Callie reminded him as she pointed to the chair in the middle of the room.

Clove, bay, and basil smoldered on the charcoal incense burner, all herbs for protection. Lighted black candles flickered in the semi-darkness, and the altar gleamed with assorted hematite, agate, malachite and bloodstone crystals. To make James more comfortable, Callie asked the coven to do the set-up spell work in advance and not dress in ceremonial robes.

Grandma Jo stood behind the chair and patted his shoulder. “Everyone, this is James MacLauren, and we are gathered to raise our energy and bless him with protection.”

The high priestess, a petite, attractive woman in her mid-forties, stepped in front of James and motioned for the coven to encircle them. “Join hands as we begin.” She took a deep breath and chanted:

The priestess gathered the altar crystals in a leather drawstring pouch and held it above the incense smoke, infusing it with magic. She handed the pouch to a coven member on her right. “As this is passed around, each of you project your energy into the crystals while visualizing James wrapped in a cocoon of safety.”

James’s back was stiffly anchored to the back of the chair, eyes gazing at the wall in front of him.

Keep it short.
Callie caught the eye of the priestess who gave a slight nod. As soon as the last coven member held the pouch, she took it to James. The priestess laid a hand on his scalp for a final blessing. His eyes widened, and Callie knew he’d felt the energy pass through his body.

“It is done.” The priestess stepped away. “Be warned, these crystals offer you some protection, but there is only so much we can do.” At his nod, she addressed the coven. “Thank all of you for coming today. Merry meet.”

Amid a chorus of
merry meets,
she bee-lined it to James and whisked him back out the front door.

“Told you it wouldn’t take long. You felt the energy, didn’t you?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, but it’s not going to do much.”

“You can’t know that until your next fight.” She frowned. “Which hopefully won’t be anytime soon.”

“I’d say the likelihood of a fight against either Connors or your father is a given. I paid a visit to the Dean today. Connors is an immortal, like me.”

She squeezed her eyes shut and hugged her arms to her chest. This was worse than she thought. If Connors was both a witch and an immortal, he was a powerful enemy. She hoped the protection spell her coven just cast for James would be strong enough to work.

“Don’t fight them,” she whispered urgently, “I’ll try and figure out something with my coven to keep Lucas away.”

James silently led her to his car and opened the passenger door.

“Where are we going?”

“My house. You’ve been asking about Sin all day, so I’ll let you see him for yourself.” He shut the door and walked to the other side.

As soon as he got behind the wheel, Callie squeezed his knee. “I mean it, James. Don’t fight with them. I’ll handle my father.”

He set the leather pouch on the console, pulled out onto the road, and shot her a tense look. “I don’t want to fight Lucas; it would destroy whatever’s between us.”

She shook her head. “No way. I’m more worried my witchy side will scare
you
off.” She gazed out at the rolling hills where dusk lightly gathered. The witching hour when any kind of magic was possible. Especially in the spring when nature stirred to life after the deep silence of winter.

“I can handle your witchy side if you can handle my immortal weirdness. I’ll admit everyone in your coven seems decent. Too bad all witches aren’t like them.”

“In any race or religion, there’s going to be a few bad apples.”

“Like your father?”

“Like my father.” She turned to the window again, catching sight of the blooming dogwoods, the first traces of spring. She was
not
her father. It was her path, her choice, to live in darkness or light. And she, thank goddess, had been raised in the light, so the choice was easy. “Hey, stop the car. Pull over.”

“What the—?” Alarmed, he hit the brakes and pulled off. Luckily, no one was behind them.

The instant the car stopped, she flung open the door and ran to a cluster of violets. James followed close behind.

“Callie, what’s wrong? Where are you going?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” She strode to a patch of purple under a nearby tree and turned to him triumphantly. “Violets,” she said, pointing at the flowers.

“Oookay…. so what?” He frowned, looking for signs of danger.

“I have to pick these violets.”

He stared at her for a long moment. “You scare me to death, have me pull over, then run off into the woods . . . all because you wanted to pick flowers?”

“These aren’t
any
flowers. They’re violets.”

His brows drew together as if he didn’t know whether to laugh or throttle her. Well, let him scoff. If he was irritated, he’d get over it.

She bent and started gathering handfuls of the purple blooms. She straightened abruptly. “Did you bring the crystals with you?”

“Don’t tell me I’m supposed to carry them everywhere.”

“Absolutely. You never know when you might need them.”

“I meant to ask earlier, what’s the deal with the malachite? That woman said something about it being an omen.”

Callie resumed picking. “When danger lurks, the malachite stone will break in two.”

“Huh. Not sure I buy that.”

“Let’s hope it’s never put to the test.” She gathered a few more blooms.

James sighed deeply. “I give. What’s with the emergency flower-picking stop?”

She knew it would sound silly. “It’s an old superstition really, but anyone who gathers the first violets of spring will have their deepest, secret desire granted.”

He crossed his arms, apparently unimpressed.

“It’s especially true if the violets are blooming under a dogwood tree. It means the flowers have been visited by the fairies. Don’t you want to pick any?”

He shook his head and laughed. “If I’m going to date a witch, guess I better expect the unexpected.”

“Make fun all you want. We’ll see who has the last laugh when my wish comes true.”

“And what is your deepest secret desire?”

To love you forever.
Only she couldn’t tell him that. He wanted everything to move at a snail’s pace. “If I told you, it wouldn’t be a secret. You’ve lived a long time; there must be some old superstitions you believe.”

He watched her gather flowers. “I do have quite a collection of thunderstones.”

“Thunderstones? I thought I knew all about rocks and crystals, but that’s a new one on me.”

“They’re black rocks with white streaks caused by lightning. When I was a kid, people believed they cured anything from snakebite to childbirth pain. I collected them because they’re also supposed to give you enormous physical strength if you bathe with them.”

“Do they?”

He shrugged. “It’s like most things. If you believe it works, it will.”

“I’ll have to tell Michael and Tanner about the thunderstones. They’ll try anything they think might give them an edge in football.”

Alarm flashed across his face. “You can’t tell anybody about me. About the immortality.”

“Of course. I’ll tell them it’s an old superstition you heard.” Satisfied with her bouquet, she went to James and kissed him briefly on the lips.

The innocent kiss exploded into raw, primitive desire so fast that they each drew back in surprise. All of the deep, sensory awakening that had been growing as she approached her twentieth summer solstice made
everything
a heightened sensation. James’s rapid breathing proved he was just as moved by the kiss.

She managed to find her voice. “Have you ever made love in a violet patch in the woods?”

“Hmm . . . let me see. There was that time in the gardens . . . but wait, those were yellow flowers, not purple . . . and then there was the affair with the farm girl, and we wound up covered in poison ivy, but I don’t recall any purple flowers there either . . . and I can’t forget the time—”

“Stop.” Callie covered her ears, laughing. But the stab of jealously was swift, and it took all her will to stamp it out. “Bet you haven’t made love to a witch, have you?” She couldn’t keep the hopeful note out of her question.

The laughter quickly left his eyes. “Not knowingly. If I did, I was lucky enough to escape without being bound.”

“What do you mean?”

“Are you serious? You’re a witch and you don’t even know your own supposed power?”

“When you say
bound
, do you mean like bound by marriage?”

“No. The kind of binding I’m talking about is a much greater hold than marriage vows.”

She nodded, finally understanding. “You mean a witch casting you in a binding spell. But you know physical love doesn’t have to take place as a condition of the bind, right? A witch could bind you to herself at any time.”

James said nothing. A chill grew in the air between them.

“You must know I would never do that to you,” she said quickly. “Binding spells are wrong. They’re only supposed to be done as a last resort when your life, or a loved one’s life, is in danger. When you bind someone, you destroy their free will. Usually it’s done to keep someone away from you or others in your family.”

“But it can also be used to enslave someone. Making love to a witch automatically binds an immortal to them. Or so says Carter.”

“I’ve never heard that. But then, I never knew there were immortals until I met you. Does your dad know someone that was bound?”

“
He
was. Her name was Angelique, and for decades he was miserable under her spell.”

She hated to ask. “What did this Angelique do?”

“Made him sign over all of his wealth. But that was the least of it. When she grew tired of him, Angelique took other lovers and even brought them into their home. By the end of the first decade, Dad was begging her to release him. She refused. Angelique even started using him to hurt others that crossed her path. Dad wouldn’t go into the details, but I know he’s still haunted by his past.”

“How horrible,” she whispered. No wonder Carter was so bitter.