In the Company of Witches(33)

“I spoke to Isaac this morning. He didn’t know anything about the demon’s purpose for the soulkeeper, the part he might play in it. He had nothing useful to add.”

“You didn’t hurt him.” When she fixed a fierce eye on him, he gave her breast a pinch that made her yelp and slap at him.

“Tempted, but no.” Mikhael frowned. “Underneath the cunning, he’s piss-himself terrified. He wants to run, but he knows he’s an expendable pawn. So he’s here, hopping from one foot to the other, knowing only one thing for sure—she’s going to come for him.”

Mikhael glanced down at her. “I’d like to put him somewhere else, but he’s left us no choice. His track will lead to you first, no matter where I take him from here.”

“We’ll be fine. I’ve been protecting this place by myself for a long time.”

“You won’t be doing it alone right now.”

“You probably consider your arrogance a good thing, don’t you?”

“It gets you worked up, and I like seeing you worked up. Though being around you is sometimes like plowing a field full of adders.”

Now she did smile. “That’s an old legend. Wasn’t the wizard trying to win the maiden’s hand when he did that?”

“Yes, but the maiden didn’t symbolize the adders, so that wasn’t exactly the purpose of the comparison.”

“Keep it up. I’ll bribe Matilda to hide vile things in your croissants.” She curled her fingers into his shirt, laid her cheek on his chest, feeling the motion of the kelpie beneath them. Mikhael was warm as always, and had that fire-burning smell. In his jeans, boots and untucked shirt, which she was sure hid a weapon or two, he looked like he’d stepped out of a rugged men’s magazine, but men with a sense of style. The Ferrari, the tailored, high-quality clothing…Mikhael did like material things, but not to excess. He could have broken the chair yesterday, but he hadn’t. She was pretty sure it was because he appreciated the quality of fine things as well.

Or that he’d known how important it was to let her have her way, to build her trust in his mastery of her. That level of perception in a male was discomfiting, enough that she almost wished he’d destroyed the chair.

“Well, fine,” she said, not wanting to appear to be giving in to what had obviously been an order. “The longer he’s here, the longer he’s exposed to a different way of living. Even if he doesn’t want to stay, I can find him accommodations elsewhere that are a better situation for him.”

He brushed his lips over her hair. “As I said from the beginning, don’t get too attached. There’s a lot of dark corridors to that little weasel.”

“You’re condemning him before you know him.”

“You don’t know him any better than I do. We’re both going on gut. As I told you before, your gut is tempered by your personal experiences. Your empathy is influenced by it.”

The kelpie came to a halt. Raina saw the black Ferrari parked beneath a live oak on a gravel apron, built there to allow tourists to stop and take pictures of the panoramic view. When Mikhael swung down, she closed her hand in Atlas’s mane. “I don’t appreciate the patronizing tone.”

He put his hand on the horse’s nose, stilling him, though Atlas’s body quivered. “Don’t lash out at me because you don’t like where this might be headed for Isaac.”

“You could alter where it’s headed.”

“I can’t make his choices for him.”

“Well, that’s just dandy for you, isn’t it? You get to enforce, bring death and destruction, but you never have to think, to choose, to risk. That’s the job, right? Like every other cop who only thinks in a tunnel, you don’t see anything else. It’s all black and white.”

“And you spend too long in those shades of gray, you forget what black and white truly is.” He tightened his hand on her leg. “Don’t do this, Raina. We both know the reality of the situation, no matter the outcome. Don’t let it spoil the day.”

“I wasn’t the one who picked a fight.”

“I stated the obvious. You reacted emotionally.”

“You want to see an emotional reaction?” Her gaze flashed with dangerous intent. Atlas snorted, rolled his eyes.

Mikhael plucked her off the horse, set her on her feet. Since he’d expect magic, she went with the short jab that should have caught him right in his self-righteous mouth. Instead, he caught her fist, closing his fingers over her knuckles.

“Do you anticipate everything?” she asked bitterly.

“You don’t want to be around the day I don’t.”

Raina stared up at him. A novice often made this mistake with a client. She chattered away, making it all about her, her own reactions, and forgot to pay attention to his. Mikhael’s expression was set, impassive, but there was tautness around his mouth. It reminded her of the previous day, the unlikely thought that she might have bruised his feelings. Did she have the ability to actually hurt him?

Testing it, she swallowed her pride. “I apologize. You didn’t deserve that, not entirely. But you being cruel to me isn’t going to change my hope for him, either.”

His expression altered, a subtle shift, but it eased the tension their argument had caused. It also left her floored. Her opinion did matter to him. Just how casual was this relationship, really? It was a dangerous thought. Thank goodness, he spoke, allowing her to push it away.

He lifted a shoulder. “I do bring death and destruction.”

“You bring balance,” she reminded him gently. “But you don’t need to worry about me. If something happens, it’s because I wasn’t strong or fast enough. I don’t rely on anyone else for protection. That’s no one’s job but my own.”

“Because as hard as it is to shoulder that alone, it’s easier than trusting someone else?”

“Yes.” Might as well give him the straight answer.

He still held her fist, but in a different kind of hold. “No one came for you, when he took you.”

“After my father was killed, there was no one else who knew where to start looking.” It was reality, and shouldn’t cause an ache in her throat to say it, so many years later.

He moved a step closer, and was against her. When he cupped her face, she closed her eyes. Turning toward his palm, she pressed her lips there, rested her weight on his strength.

“Raina, if something ever happened…I would come for you.”

She put her hand over his thick wrist, evidence of his skill with so many different weapons, and squeezed. She couldn’t let this much longing into her heart. She was strong enough to bear loss, but not the uncertain potential of gain.

“How about we start with taking me into town?” she said lightly. “That should be enough heroics for the day. Especially if we have to deal with tourists.”

THOUGH IT WAS SURREAL, SHE WASN’T SURPRISED TO find Mikhael was a good companion. He patiently followed her from window to window and into the quaint shops that offered antiques, furniture, clothes, jewelry and knickknacks to tempt tourists or self-indulging locals alike. Since Li, Gina, Matilda and a fleet of delivery vendors handled the needs of her house, she was merely delighted to have the opportunity to browse like anyone else.

Mikhael was also as good as his word. She didn’t get a second glance from anyone they passed, his chameleon spellwork flawless. She almost didn’t feel it, except for an occasional sense of warm air passing over her skin. When she glanced into a decorative mirror in passing, she saw an average-looking woman, attractive but not exceptionally so. She suspected he had a similar dissembling cast over himself, since the man blended like John Cena at a reunion   of the Oz Munchkins, yet no woman who passed them tripped over her own feet or walked smack into a parking meter. Pleasingly enough, though, he looked as he always looked to her. She wondered if he’d excluded her from the spell to give her that pleasure. It was both an arrogant and amusing thought. He didn’t underestimate the impact of his looks; that was for certain. She liked that, because she was no different about her own. It was what it was, an asset to be enjoyed, but never to be mistaken as a substitute for true substance.

At the next antique store they visited, they were greeted by a clacking noise, followed by a piercing train whistle. The proprietor had an old model train set in operation, the cars trundling along the track cordoning several displays. While Mikhael slowed down to take a look, she went to the second level to check on a nineteenth-century Louis XV walnut armoire that had caught her eye. As she wandered through that upper level, she caught glimpses of him through the array of merchandise. What she saw intrigued her enough she came to the rail, leaning on it to watch him.

The set had ten cars. He’d taken hold of the controls and was putting the train through its paces, switching tracks, stopping and reversing, hooking up another car. An older man sitting on a bench nearby was discussing it with him, apparently a train enthusiast. Fascinated, she watched him and Mikhael enter a deep conversation, where terms like scale, track radius, gauges and steam versus diesel reached her ears.