Feline the Flames (The Firehouse Feline Book 2)

by L. A. Boruff

  Having her try to use her connections to stop this might get her hurt. Or worse.

  “I don’t want you getting involved,” I say, trying to keep my tone from betraying my worry.

  But the look she gives me tells me she’s made up her mind.

  “Stay out of it,” I tell her, hoping to see some flicker of recognition that she realizes this is a bad idea. “I pissed off the king. I hurt his men. You’ll get hurt.”

  “Okay.” The word is a lie.

  “Mom...”

  “Will.” Her gaze is sharp as she looks at me. “Take care of the girl.”

  I’m about to argue further when I glance outside. A car creeps past the house. The shading on the windows is dark, but there’s nothing otherwise unusual about it. And yet, a chill rolls down my spine as I watch it disappear down the street.

  You’re being paranoid, I tell myself, but the feeling lingers.

  Standing, I look around. “We need to go now.”

  James and Hank exchange a confused glance, but stand too.

  Then, my mom pours herself another drink. “And for god’s sake, Hank, go say hi to your parents. They miss you.”

  Hank grins. “Yes, Mrs. Steelman.”

  She smiles at him. “Call me Lola, please. Always such a good boy.”

  As we start to leave, my mom grabs my arm. The others linger by the door.

  “Keep your head down until I can take care of this.”

  I open my mouth to argue about her getting involved again, but she cuts me off. “And this girl. Are you protecting her because of who she is or because you care for her?”

  I look away.

  A second later, my mom hugs me. Her words are soft in my ear. “I know you think you’re doomed to be your father, and I know you blame yourself for your idiot ex, but you deserve better, Will. Better than me and better than a future alone.”

  When she pulls back, I stare down at the tiny woman. All the near-death experiences, the fire, and Fran crying over her lost love must have rattled me. Because when I look at my mom, for the first time in my life, I just see her for who she is. A broken, lonely woman. A woman with an addiction and an abusive ex.

  She wasn’t a good mom. I cried alone. I never went to the doctor when I was sick, or had someone to kiss me when I was hurt. There was so much time spent cooking alone, shopping alone, doing homework alone, all with a snoring mom passed out next to me. But, she loved me. In the only way she could.

  “Mom.” I love you. “Be careful.”

  “You too.” Her smile is full of regrets as her eyes crinkle with the earliest signs of wrinkles. If she hadn’t been sucking down a large bottle every day for fifty years, even those wrinkles wouldn’t be there yet. Not on a mage.

  We turn and leave, and I feel odd. Almost like a weight I’ve been carrying for a long time has been lifted. Have I actually forgiven my mom? Maybe.

  A squeal of excitement makes all of us jump. Down the street, Hank’s parents are walking their golden lab. We hurry over to them as his mom hugs him, and his dad wraps his arms around both of them.

  They chat for awhile, laughing, and discussing his sisters. One is pregnant, another is struggling with her first child, a third is wrangling a baseball team worth of kids. His youngest sister is off at college. The second youngest just broke up with her boyfriend and could use a call from her big brother.

  Hank grins all through it. The fear that seemed to hang over our group lifts as his parents discuss everyday life things, not King-death-heir things.

  His mother, in her white country club outfit, compliments Callie’s hair and promises to take her to get her nails done. And Callie beams under her words.

  I stand back from the group, feeling strange yet again. I’ve always envied Hank. Always wanted the life he had. But remembering the fierce look in my mother’s eyes when she said she’d take care of the witches, I realize I wouldn’t trade her for anything.

  When Hank’s dad glances at me, he moves away from the others. “How are you doing, son?”

  Fuck. Why do my eyes sting when he calls me that?

  “I’ve been screwing up a lot lately.” Something about this man makes me honest. I never could hide anything from him.

  He puts a hand on my shoulder. “Boy, you have a good heart. A few missteps can be good. They can teach you and help you grow.”

  “Thank you, sir,” I say.

  He smiles. “I’ve been keeping an eye out on your mom, like you asked.”

  It takes me a second to clear my throat. “Thank you, sir,” I repeat.

  I glance at the others and lower my voice. “Trouble is brewing with the witches.”

  His kind smile widens. “We’re simple witches, Will. All the politics doesn’t matter much to a teacher and an accountant. And I don’t think we matter much to them.”

  “Just be careful,” I say. “We’ve gotten mixed up in some stuff. We’re on the right side, but that could bring the King’s wrath down on us.”

  His eyes widen. “You’re doing the right thing?” He laughs and shakes his head. “Hell, I don’t need to ask, you’d never drag Hank into trouble. Okay, I’ll bring in some friends to strengthen the wards around our house and our girls’ houses. We’ll watch ourselves.”

  “Thank you,” I say.

  The others end their conversations. There’s a few more hugs, including the big hug from Hank’s mom to me, and then they disappear into their house.

  “What now?” Callie asks.

  We look at each other. I think of the strange car. One thing is for sure, we shouldn’t hang out here much longer.

  “Let’s check out the book,” James suggests. “See if it can help us find anything else out.”

  We argue for a few minutes about where to hide out and read the book. Hank’s mom comes back with sandwiches and sodas for all of us. Taking our snacks, and trying not to feel like little kids when she pats our backs, we go to the beach near the back of their house and setup a little picnic by the sand.

  At last, Callie pulls the book out of the bag she’d hidden it in, and opens it with a slight green glow. For awhile, we eat and stare at the pages that show their family line, including the one with Callie as a baby, although it doesn’t say her name.

  The grimoire is long. A history of how their different family members ruled. Their success and failures.

  At last, we come to pages that look freshly written.

  “What Callie needs to know,” Callie reads from the top, then takes a deep breath.

  Unable to help myself, I sweep her hair back from her face.

  Those big blue eyes of hers lock onto mine.

  “It’s going to be okay.” I say, feeling awkward reassuring another person.

  “How do you know?” she asks.

  The words come before I can stop them. “I just know,” then lean forward and capture her lips in a kiss before I can think about how cheesy I sound.

  It starts out gentle, then deepens. Within seconds, I’m hard and aching to touch her. To take her in the sand.

  “Get a room.” Hank sounds jealous as hell.

  I’m disappointed when Callie breaks our kiss, her cheeks pink as she pulls back from me.

  “What exactly happened between you two when you were gone?” Hank asks, still sounding like a jerk. Not that I blame him. “Because I thought you saw Will as an asshole.”

  “And then she saw my big dick and changed her mind,” I say.

  “Will!” Callie exclaims, her cheeks reddening further.

  “You guys had sex?” James asks, looking shocked.

  I grin. “Well--”

  “No!” Callie says.

  “But I did get a taste.” I can’t help myself.

  “Will!” She slaps me in the chest. “Maybe I’m the one who ‘got a taste,’ you macho jackass.” Then, one hand goes over her mouth like she can’t believe what she just said.

  I’m torn between immediate regret and amusement, because I did sound like an ass, but she ju
st admitted she tasted me. “Sorry,” I mumble.

  “That’s hardly fair.” Hank pouts a little. “Just because he’s constantly walking around with a hard-on doesn’t mean the rest of us don’t want to take things to the next level.”

  “Just stop!” Callie is so flustered, it’s fucking cute. “It wasn’t like that!”

  “She makes the best sounds,” I say, then have to bite down on a laugh as she smacks my chest again.

  Her eyes suddenly narrow. “You want to rethink this whole conversation?”

  Studying her, my nerves scream to life. Is she actually mad? Fuck, I think she is.

  I instantly want to take back this entire conversation “Yeah, sorry, I was just teasing.” I took it too far. Damn it.

  Hank gets a sparkle of triumph in his eyes. “That was you teasing? No wonder you suck at relationships!” He wasn’t wrong, but I couldn’t let him know that.

  “Not all of us can be suave like you,” I say, feeling mildly offended

  “Hank, suave, sure,” James mutters with laughter in his voice.

  I’m about to actually try a better apology for bringing any of this up in front of the Hank and James, when a movement catches my eye.

  “Guys,” I say. The seriousness of my voice instantly changes our moods.

  They look up and spot the witches coming down the beach toward us.

  “What do we do?” Callie asks, panic in her voice.

  “Hide the book,” I say. “And all of you get out of here. Right now, they’re after me not you.”

  “Like hell!” Callie says.

  “We can’t risk you getting hurt,” I say, and hope like hell they can see I’m right.

  Standing, I don’t look back to make sure they listen. Instead, I start walking toward the witches. If they think that I’m going to die with my tail between my legs, they’re wrong.

  If I’m already on their shit list, I might as well take out a bunch of motherfuckers in one fiery rage. At least it’ll get rid of a few of the people who might hurt Callie in the future. At the worst, I’ll die right along with them.

  Either way, I’m not ready to go down without a fight.

  Chapter Ten

  Callie

  "What is he doing?" I look at James and Hank, who stare after Will with their jaws unhinged. "Why is he walking away from us? Who are those witches?"

  "I don't know yet," Hank says. "Hey, Will, hang on." He jogs across the sand to catch up to his friend.

  James grabs my hands. "Take the book." He presses the truck keys in my hand. "And the truck and go to Will's mum. Hide there. We can't risk you or the book being caught."

  He runs after Hank and Will. I look back and forth between the truck and the guys. The thought of leaving them kills me, but if I stay, how could I be any help? The only thing I can do is shift into a damn cat—usually when I don't want to.

  If I can get ahold of Will's mom, maybe she can help. It's only a short walk away, but if I leave, what might happen in the meantime?

  A sob chokes my throat. I'm utterly powerless right now, and it galls me. I hate this feeling. My spine tingles, and I know if I don't calm down, she'll take over. Then the book will be left in the sand for anybody to find. The likelihood I'd be able to convince the cat to pick it up with her teeth and hide it is slim.

  Will reaches the witches on the beach as I stand and freak out over what I should do. Seconds later, Hank catches up and puts himself in front of Will. Their affection for one another touches me, increasing the big emotions inside me.

  Breathe, Callie! Calm down or you'll shift.

  I suck in salty air, counting to try to calm my racing heart. James reaches the group.

  "Oh," I moan out loud. "Damn it, Callie, think of something."

  I look at the book. Maybe there's something in it, but I'd never find it.

  I'm supposed to be a witch. I have no powers, but still. I'm a witch.

  Holding the book close to my heart, I close my eyes and speak to it.

  "Grandmother, if part of you is out there, please, help me. Show me what to do."

  I set the book on the picnic table we'd gathered around and stare at it. Nothing happens, and as I stare at it in dismay, I hear Will shout.

  Whirling around, I see my guys have backed up and are standing defensively several feet from the other witches. Things are escalating out there, but there's six of those witches and only three of them.

  To open the book, I had to use my blood, but I don't have a knife. Turning in circles, I ignore the shouts coming from down the beach. If I look, I'll be too distracted to try to help.

  Hellfire, I don't even know if this will help, but I have to try something.

  Finally, I spot a jagged piece of shell. Yes! Snatching it up, I cut my palm. If I hadn't been in the heat of the moment and terrified for my guys, I don't think I could've cut myself like that.

  Shuddering, I hold my palm over the book and put the other hand on it. Grandmother, please, show me what to do.

  Turning my palm over so the blood drips onto the grimoire, I repeat the mantra in my head over and over and send the thoughts toward the book as hard as I can.

  To my extreme surprise and amazement, it glows, bright green this time. The book flips open, the sea breeze rifling the pages until they land flat, and the wind disappears.

  I read the words on the page.

  To Summon Loyalty

  Take a pinch of sand,

  Hold it within your hand.

  An eyelash from yourself you give,

  Or loyalty shall not live.

  Place the lash with the grain,

  To protect from the pain.

  Close your eyes and count to three,

  With your breath you pay the fee.

  True loyalty you shall find,

  Now conjured in your mind.

  My stomach is full of butterflies as I read the words. I'm not sure what I expected, but that seems to almost be too easy.

  No, Callie, don't think like that, I scold myself. If it's easy, then I can do it, and that's the main thing.

  I scoop down and pick up a pinch of sand, only realising after my fingers are coated in it that I somehow have to get one of my eyelashes free. I may end up irritating one of my eyes to get this done. Small price to pay for what the guys can gain.

  I center the sand in the palm of my hand, before wiping off my left hand and plucking out one of my eyebrows. I place it with the sand and close my eyes, focusing on what I want to achieve as I puff out three short bursts of air. The sand and eyelash fly off my hand to rejoin the rest of the beach.

  Did it work? Damn, I hope it worked.

  My eyes snap open and I whirl around to see Will's hand erupt in flames. Oh no. It’s escalating. Please don’t fight. He doesn't throw the flames, but the six witches opposite throw up their hands. Balls of energy form in a couple of their hands, and one starts spinning his arms around. Fuck! No. I have no clue what he's doing, but it can't be good. This is going south, fast.

  Seconds later, shouts from behind me have me whirling around again. Will's mom and four others, three men and a woman, sprint toward Will, James, and Hank.

  I sink onto the picnic table bench, so relieved that my legs won't hold me up anymore. The spell worked. I can hardly believe it.

  Will's mom's hands erupt into flames like his, but the other four witches make circular movements like the other guy did. What a mess of crap I don’t understand.

  The sand around them flies everywhere and the ground shakes even as far away as I am. The six attacking witches fly backward, but I’m damned if I know what my team did to cause it. My team. Heh. They get up and dust themselves off, but don't look injured, except maybe for their pride.

  The one that seems the most in charge, standing slightly in front of the others, still has his ball of energy in his hand. He screams, enraged, the sound reaching me, but not well enough to hear the specifics of what he says. He throws his ball toward Will with a twisted look of rage on his f
ace, and I jump up, panicked. But as fast as I get up, I then slump down in relief. The ball bounces off of an invisible wall of some sort. It must've been what made the sand go everywhere, like a protection wall.

  Thank goodness.

  I have no idea what to do now. Everything in me is saying go help, but I’d be no good. I have no magic.

  The King's witches back away, the six of them never looking away from the seven defenders. My team.

  I have a team.

  Will, Hank, and James wait until the attackers are well down the beach, then sprint to me.

  Will reaches me first, enveloping me in his arms. "Are you okay?"

  "Yeah, I'm fine." I hold my hand at my chest to try not to smear blood over both of us, and it gets caught between our chests.

  When he pulls back, I throw my arms around Hank's neck and kiss his cheek, then do the same for James. After giving them all a hug and kiss of appreciation, I turn to see what's happening as Hank grabs my hand. It's dripping blood into the sand. Watching the ending scene in front of me, I don't even realize he's healed my hand until it's done.

  "Thanks," I whisper as I rub it with my other thumb.

  The attackers turn their backs once they're so far down the beach they can duck behind a dune. Once they turn away, our amazing heroes head toward me as well.

  Will's mom pulls me into a hug. "How did you know to summon us?"

  I shake my head, not really knowing how to explain it, and try to hide my surprise at her appearance. It’s almost unbelievable this woman is Will’s mom. She’s stunning, and looks nearly the same age as Will himself. It must be her magic that keeps her young. Will I look young forever too, or is it a fire mage thing?

  “Well, thanks for calling us, no matter how you did it.”

  Nodding, I feel a wave of gratitude for this woman. Without knowing me, not really, she came without hesitation and brought back up. It’s good to have people like her in a time of need.

  "Well, we're well and truly fucked now." The woman who came with her holds out her hand. "Hello, love. I'm Theresa Curry. Been looking forward to meeting you."