Call It Magic

by Janet Chapman

  Katy turned to face her mother. “It’s not that I withheld the information from him that bothers me as much as . . . as why. I’ve heard Papa tell the boys more than once when they spoke of their tours in Afghanistan and Iraq that the intent in a man’s heart when he kills another man—or even an animal—is what’s important. That if he’s killing in anger, or hate, or for revenge, then he’s no better than a murderer.”

  “And if he’s defending himself or protecting someone or being a soldier doing his duty?” Libby asked softly. “What is he then?”

  Katy smiled sadly. “A hero.”

  “And did you keep the knowledge of Brandon Fontanne’s aneurysm to yourself because you were angry at him and hated him and wanted revenge for what he did to you? Or,” Libby firmly rushed on before Katy could answer, “did you see it as a way to stop him from drugging and raping more women?”

  “I knew who he was and where he could be found,” Katy said softly. “I could have gone to the hospital that day and had evidence collected and report it to the police.”

  “And you didn’t . . . because?”

  Katy lifted her arm to show the mark. “It was obvious to me, even in the frame of mind I was in at the time, that this wasn’t an isolated crime of opportunity. And I also knew Fontanne would have flown directly to a country that didn’t have extradition and that he was probably sitting in some bar looking for his next victim before I was even able to untie those ropes. So what would reporting it to the police have accomplished besides leaving me with a kit full of evidence, an arrest warrant that couldn’t be carried out, and an angry and deeply wounded . . .” She dropped her head on a shuddering sigh. “I wasn’t about to let that bastard hurt my family, too.”

  “Okay. It’s done. Over. History. Your demon is dead. And you’re letting me make that arm baby-soft smooth again, because you didn’t give the bastard that aneurysm. And,” she rushed on when Katy tried to speak, “we are never, ever telling your father or Robbie or any male in any of the clans. And Winter. Oh, God, we can’t ever tell Winter.”

  “I have no intention of ever telling anyone, but why not Winter?”

  Libby screwed up her face. “Are you kidding me? The woman’s a wizard. She’d try to find a way to resurrect Fontanne just to be able to kill him herself.”

  Katy very gently broke free of her mother’s grasp and stepped back. “I, ah . . . I sort of already told Gunnar,” she confessed.

  Libby went perfectly still except to blink at her. “Why would you have told your boss?”

  “Because I think he’s . . .” Katy gave a tentative smile. “I think he might be The One.”

  Her mother did not smile back. “You haven’t even known the man a month, Katherine,” Libby whispered. “And less than two months ago you . . . you were raped.”

  “But I don’t remember being raped,” Katy whispered back.

  “But your body does. Have you been with Gunnar . . . romantically?”

  No longer able to look at the concern in her mother’s eyes, Katy dropped her gaze to the ground. “We haven’t made love yet,” she said softly. “I wanted to, but I couldn’t.”

  “It wasn’t the right time.”

  Katy looked up at her mom once again. “What if it’s never the right time again?”

  Her mother almost smiled, eyebrows high. “Do you actually believe that?”

  A sharp poke shook Katy’s insides, like a crack in her soul. She almost smiled herself. “How do you happen to know everything?”

  “Isn’t that a mother’s job?”

  “I guess I forgot I’m a Highlander.” She grinned crookedly. “And an equestrian. Whether we fall, or someone knocks us down, we get back on our feet or in the saddle and try again. We don’t give up or give in; we get stronger. Someone like Brandon Fontanne doesn’t get to take that away.”

  Her mother nodded. “Exactly. And I’m guessing someone like Gunnar Wolfe knows better than to question that strength. If he’s The One, that is.” Libby’s eyebrows arched in challenge.

  Katy chuckled. “I’m pretty sure I’ve made that clear. And besides, Gunnar’s one of us.”

  The eyebrows fell. “What?”

  “He’s from Atlantis. He’s one of Nicholas’ warriors.”

  “Oh, but that’s no good. You need a mortal, Katy, to keep you grounded. Michael understands the magic but doesn’t command it. He’s my anchor. Without him to hold on to, I could get swept away.”

  Katy studied her, heart sinking. She’d always known her father supported her mother, and her mother’s magic, but she’d never quite understood his role. “It always has to be that way?”

  Libby nodded. “I don’t know how someone like us survives the magic otherwise.”

  Katy sighed, suddenly overwhelmed. “There’s just so much I don’t understand yet. How do you decide if you’re supposed to intervene or not? When is it my place to help? Five years ago, I started . . . feeling people’s pain. Not as pain itself, but . . . Oh, I can’t describe it. I didn’t see colors, I felt them. That’s why I went to paramedic school, so I could understand. But ever since I healed the cat, I can . . . I feel people.”

  “You and I,” Libby said, leaning into her, “are not in the business of deciding who lives and who dies. Our job is . . .” She squeezed Katy’s hands. “We’re not healing them, Katy—we’re helping them heal themselves.”

  “But can they all do that? Aren’t we supposed to ease the way if we can?”

  “It’s not our decision to make. If it’s a person’s day to die, all your training and all that fancy equipment in your ambulance, and even your beautiful magic, won’t be able to save them. But if it’s not their time, then you are God’s answer to their prayers.” She leaned into her daughter’s shoulder. “I believe you’ll find that the true value of your gift will be being able to tell if you’re there to help that person live or offer them comfort in their final moments.”

  “But how will I know?” Katy whispered. “What if I’m wrong and give up too soon?”

  Libby patted her knee and stood, then smiled down at her. “You’ll know. Even without your unique gift, paramedics learn to read the subtle signs a person gives off.” Her smile turned sad. “I imagine, for you, that sign will be finding yourself inexplicably angry at your patient.”

  “Angry?”

  “Even as your mind races through the steps you need to take, your heart will sense they’re already moving on. I spent six years as a full-time surgeon, but it wasn’t until I discovered I could heal people without a scalpel that I learned having someone die on my table or in my arms is not defeat but merely the next natural step on their personal journey.” She softly snorted. “Not that that stops me from getting angry at what I perceive as them giving up or running away or . . .” She went back to smiling sadly. “Or running to something I can’t see.”

  She reached down and pulled Katy to her feet, then wrapped her arms around her in a hug. “I know it’s scary and confusing and seems more like a curse than a blessing right now.” She leaned back enough to flash a crooked smile. “But once you truly understand that you can’t mess it up because you’re not the one calling the shots, you’ll have fully mastered the magic. That’s when the healing begins.”

  * * *

  * * *

  “Have you seen Katy?” Gunnar asked Robert MacBain as the man tied the bowline of a sleek-looking runabout to the dock. “I checked at her campsite and her truck’s here,” he continued as he scanned the beach and then the front of the office store, only to still when MacBain straightened and looked at him with narrow-eyed . . . interest. “Did she go for a walk with her mother?”

  “Nay. Katy and Mum are enjoying some mother-daughter time on one of the islands.”

  Gunnar used the excuse of looking toward the array of small islands scattered along the eastern shoreline to break eye contact. “When will
they be back?”

  MacBain said nothing, so much nothing that Gunnar had to glance back at him. The giant man’s posture said it all, his wide back more dismissive than any words could have been. Well, shit. He should have freaking asked for information, not demanded it. Because he was pretty sure his usual practice of “forgiveness over permission” wasn’t really the way to go with this particular man.

  He just knew he couldn’t possibly have much time before Aunt May arrived, and if he wanted that visit to go well, he better figure out exactly what she was coming to Spellbound Falls to observe. If it was just him, single guy with an interesting new job, that was one thing. But if he and Katy were really going to be GUNNAR AND KATY, package deal, well, that was something completely different.

  The silence continued, and Gunnar decided some serious backtracking was in order. “I . . . um, well . . . I’m sorry if that sounded demanding. I’ve been working hard to whip the fire department into shape, and I guess I forget sometimes I don’t need to talk to everyone like I’m the boss.”

  MacBain glanced at him, no emotion in his expression, and then went back to tending the boat. Clearly, the new boss had been decided. Gunnar took a step closer and lowered his head. “I’m more than your sister’s supervisor, or at least I’d like to be.”

  That got the man’s attention. “Pretty sure she gets to make that call,” he said, eyes narrow and skeptical.

  “Oh . . . oh, yeah. Of course.” Gunnar felt the blood drain out of his face. Shit. Had he sounded like he was asking MacBain to hand her over? “I wasn’t being a jerk. I was just trying to be real, you know? Let you know where things stand.”

  MacBain turned, faced him full on. “And where do they stand?”

  Gunnar actually gulped, something he hadn’t done in the presence of another guy since he was like fourteen. Damn, these Highlanders were intimidating. His determination wavered, made him wonder, for just a second, if he really wanted to be involved with a girl from this particular family. Of course, as soon as his mind wandered anywhere near thoughts of Katy, the question became a moot point. There was no other for him.

  “We’re still figuring that out,” he managed. “But it’s not just me pursuing her. I know she’s interested. It’s just, well . . . complicated.”

  MacBain snorted. “Welcome to the world of a Scottish woman.”

  Gunnar chuckled. “You can say that again. I’m seriously unprepared for this.”

  “Then why do it?”

  Gunnar shrugged. “Is there another choice?”

  The man’s face broke into a grin. “Look at you, knowing the right answer already. There might be hope for you and my sister.”

  “Maybe you could tell her that.”

  MacBain’s grin slipped away. “Katy doesn’t like to be told much of anything. Though, if she’s fighting you that hard, maybe you need to back off.”

  “I’m actually looking forward to her getting back to fighting me. That’s kind of our thing. I mean, not fighting, just, you know . . . spirited discussions.”

  “Got it.” MacBain nodded. “So, you’re saying she’s changed? Did something happen?”

  “Not with us. Not really. She’s just dealing with some stuff.”

  “What kind of stuff?” MacBain’s eyes looked more wary than curious, almost like he already knew the answer.

  “That’s for Katy to tell you.” Gunnar lifted his hands, palms out in the “no offense” position. “Not trying to start anything, but you know your sister better than I do. She’s not going to like us discussing her business.”

  MacBain’s gaze grew steely. “Then why ask me about her?”

  “I just couldn’t find her, was a little worried, honestly. It’s good to know she’s with her mom.”

  “Yeah, they needed to talk.”

  “If you see her, could you tell her I was looking for her?”

  MacBain studied him long and hard, then nodded.

  “Could you ask her to call me?”

  “That’ll be up to her.”

  “Right. Scottish woman. Got it.” Gunnar sighed, though the sound made him cringe. When had he become the hand-wringing girl in this situation? Katy’s voice immediately darted into his head to scold him, reminding him that girls were capable of a lot more than wringing their hands, and that if he continued to be such an uninformed jackass, he could just walk himself in the other direction. Forever.

  “Chin up, man. Katy’s smart, and she’s really good at figuring out the right thing, even if it takes her a while.” MacBain looked almost sorry for him.

  Gunnar shrugged and looked out over the water. “Thanks. That would be great if we actually had a while.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Hearing the new alarm in MacBain’s voice, Gunnar turned back. “Nothing for you to worry about. This particular ticking clock, and all the meddling that goes with it, is mine and mine alone.”

  MacBain frowned, clearly not satisfied, but Gunnar decided he’d said all he felt ready to say. With a small wave, he headed back down the dock. It suddenly felt like a storm was coming and all of the stores were sold out of candles and batteries. He’d just have to wing it, an approach that used to be his strong suit but now made him feel like he’d left the house in two left boots. Women! That was all.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Attention Spellbound Falls Fire & Rescue. Spellbound Ambulance One is asked to respond to 505 Spooner Street for a nineteen-year-old male, breathing but not responsive, possible overdose. Copy Spellbound Ambulance One: 505 Spooner Street, nineteen-year-old male, possible overdose. Piscataquis out, thirteen-forty-one.”

  “Got it, boss,” Gretchen called as soon as the tones faded.

  “I’m in,” Katy said and hurried to follow her out the door.

  With a quick nod at Gunnar, Paul grabbed his gear bag and jumped in the back of the ambulance. More than enough personnel to cover it, Gunnar thought, but he’d barely had more than two words with Katy all week. He needed to let her work, of course, but maybe if he followed the bus, he could come up with a reason for her to ride back to the station in his truck after the call. And if he was being honest, as acting chief, it wouldn’t hurt to assess her in action, to make sure her work wasn’t suffering as she worked through her challenges.

  He pulled up moments after the ambulance and saw the team gathered on the small front porch. He watched as Paul knocked, waited, then reached for the doorknob just as the door swung open. From where he sat, Gunnar could see the top of a blonde head, but nothing more. Not wanting to miss any aspect of the call, he jumped out of his truck and ran to the door, slipping inside right behind Gretchen.

  “What happened?” Katy asked the blonde, a very petite teenager with giant brown eyes.

  “I couldn’t wake him up,” the girl said and pointed to a lanky, dark-haired guy stretched across the living room floor.

  “Did he fall?” Gretchen asked, squatting down beside him.

  The girl shook her head. “No, he laid down there after he took the pills.”

  Katy peered at the girl. “What pills?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. He said he met up with Stinky Joe before he came over. He didn’t offer to share.”

  “Wow, swell guy,” Katy muttered and dropped to her knees on his other side.

  “How long ago did he take them?” Gunnar asked. Everyone in the room jumped at the sound of his voice.

  “Hey, Chief,” Paul said. “Didn’t know you were here.”

  Though Katy didn’t look up at him, her scowl made the room feel about thirty degrees chillier. Nice move, Wolfe. Didn’t look like he’d be easing the awkwardness anytime soon. “Thought I might lend a hand for once,” he murmured and tried to set them all at ease with a smile. “Carry on.”

  “Vitals are good.” Gretchen put her stethoscope back in her kit. “W
hat’s his name?” she asked the girl.

  “Dylan.”

  “Hey, Dylan,” Katy leaned down and called in his ear. “Wake up, bud.”

  No response.

  “C’mon, dude,” Katy said, giving his cheeks a light slap. Pulling out her small flashlight, she checked his eyes. “Pupils round and reactive.”

  Gunnar nodded to himself. She seemed in complete control, even more confident than she’d been in the past. Maybe he should have just stayed back. Last thing he needed was to look like he was following her around.

  “I’m going for the sternum rub,” Katy announced.

  “Whoa,” Paul said, digging through his kit. “Let me—”

  Before he could finish, Katy made a fist and rubbed her knuckles along the center of Dylan’s chest. Gunnar winced. It was an effective technique, but really uncomfortable for the patient. No one woke up happy from a sternum rub.

  “Owwwwhat the fuuu . . .” Dylan squirmed beneath her fist, trying to get free.

  “Easy, Katy,” Gretchen warned. “I think you got him.”

  “Did I, Dylan? You with us?” She gave his chest one more quick rub, though judging by Dylan’s writhing response, she didn’t use a lighter touch.

  “Dammit!” he screamed, now awake and furious.

  Katy pursed her lips and arched her brows, clearly holding back some sharp comment. “Welcome back,” she murmured and reached for his wrist. She glanced up while she counted, held Gunnar’s gaze for the briefest of moments, then looked away without changing her expression.

  At least four different comments formed on his tongue, none of them right for the situation. Move it along, Wolfe. Nothing to see here. Back in chief mode, he stepped closer and watched his paramedics work. Fortunately, by this point, Dylan looked more angry than high, which probably pleased his team far more than the kid.

  “What did you take?” Gunnar asked him.

  “I didn’t take anything,” Dylan mumbled.

  Gretchen scowled. “That’s not what your friend says.”