A Witch's Beauty

by A Witch's Beauty (lit)

  "But is she an ally?"

  "When the mood suits her." For the first time in several days, Jonah allowed himself a tight smile and got a soldier's grin from Marcellus. "But have faith, Raphael. After all, we are angels."

  Epilogue

  THEY went back to the house in the Schism. David didn't have to ask her. He knew that was what she wanted. He politely asked for a lift from the Citadel, which seemed to confuse her until she remembered and shifted to dragon form. He could tell she was worried about his reaction to the loss of his wings, so he made sure to show little concern about it.

  Mina, on the other hand, knew how much it bothered him. Felt the guilt of it, but she also understood they were both fragile, both needing time to get used to the changes the past few weeks of monumental events had wrought. She left it at that. For now.

  He spent his first few days acclimatizing himself to the house, making sure their surroundings were comfortable, going to the store to get a wide variety of foods that interested her. It required him to drive, something she remembered he'd promised to teach her. It was the first laughter she heard from him, when she insisted he change places with her in the driver's seat on the way back to show her how to handle the vehicle on the dusty and mostly deserted road.

  She had many things to occupy her, but her favorite was watching him while she sat on the swing or porch. Seeing him rummage through the workshop in back, finding tools to make simple repairs that were needed, finding other chores she could do and showing her how to help, another way to occupy her energy while she learned to manage her power.

  Then there was the music. When he'd picked them up some clothes-and she intensely liked the jeans and snug T-shirts he wore-he'd also picked up a secondhand guitar, drums, and a flute, accumulating a variety of instruments to keep his music magic skills sharp. On the porch swing at sunset, she listened while he sat on the top stair and strummed out the chords to "Beast of Burden," playing the music while humming the song he'd sung her on that magical flight together. Studying his intent profile, the soft strands of hair falling over his forehead, those fingers moving over the strings, she understood the lurch in chest and loins experienced by every girl who'd been a rock band groupie.

  While he could still perform tasks as rapidly as an angel, there were times he seemed to like a mortal pace, talking to her while she sat on the porch steps, watching him hammer or paint. Until she couldn't bear watching him anymore and instead came up behind him, sliding seeking hands beneath the T-shirt to the muscled tension of his back. She'd follow that curve, damp with sweat, up to his shoulder blades and then let her hands slide around to the front to his chest even as he turned and tossed his tools aside to give her more direct attention.

  Perhaps it was the overflow of magic, or just the lingering horror of the way she'd almost lost him. Or the fact that for the first time in her life she could reach out to another and seek pleasure, intimacy, but she really couldn't get enough of him. Fortunately, an angel's limitless well of carnality was completely unaffected by his injuries. If anything, like hers, it seemed to have increased as a result of them.

  He might lift her in his arms, take her no farther than the hammock swinging on the side of the house before he'd slide the panties off her silken legs and put his mouth on her until she was writhing and clutching at him. He seemed to love putting his mouth on her there, and she'd no objections to his expertise. But in the end, what she most wanted was to strip him of the jeans and feel his body settle on hers, his hard cock pushing inside her, filling her, making her whole, balancing their universe.

  Sometimes they'd take it even slower than a mortal pace. She'd wake in the middle of the night, find his face with her questing fingertips, and he'd hold her, no space between them as he kissed her, over and over, until she was pressed so tight against him, tears gathering in her eyes as he slowly, so slowly, slid inside her, keeping their bodies intimately twined together, coupled close in the darkness so she felt she could never get lost there, except in a way she wished would go on forever.

  Sam the Shaman, as she caustically referred to him, didn't immediately visit, though he sent a greeting in the form of a flock of buzzards, which she found somewhat amusing. She was fine with that delay. For now, she was learning a new terrain in herself, and a good portion of her day was spent working with it, plumbing the depths of what it was inside her, all the new corners she had to explore, particularly with the reassurance of David now around. She'd brought her cave stores here, so she expanded her grimoires and potion lists, noted different spells and their effects, tested them benignly on her outside landscape, creating rainbows, storm clouds, summoning up tornadoes and dust storms and containing them. She made one tornado lift the pickup truck to ensure she could safely spin it through the spiral and bring it back down to the ground again. An experiment that David requested she not perform on the house, which led to an explanation about foundations, plumbing and electrical connections she found fascinating.

  Every boundary she pushed just opened up another, or suggested another avenue she could pursue, though she knew there were places she had to be more cautious about exploring than others. Always that balance. Darkness could rise up in waves when she tried something that didn't work as she'd hoped. Like when her power got hopelessly knotted with Schism energies and she nearly caused a fatal rupture that could have swallowed fifty miles of land into a sinkhole. But Sam the Shaman made his first appearance on that day, guiding her, and David was at her back as always.

  She experienced firsthand his skill with music magic when David used the wooden flute to help them realign the energies, creating a breathtaking symphony with her and Sam's magic and restoring the balance. She proceeded more cautiously after that, but with more confidence as well.

  There were other days when they did things that had nothing to do with angels or great cosmic powers. Those were her favorite days. Like when David took her hiking, buying her the right kind of shoes, commenting on how small her feet were. And when he brushed her hair each night and she fell asleep to the lullabies he offered her. She took the songs with her into the dark landscape of her dreams and found she could travel without fear. Get some real rest.

  Some days they walked along the rivers at the bottom of the Grand Canyon, over which the angels and Dark Ones had fought to save Jonah. Often the angels went to the more remote gorges to do their training exercises, and David particularly enjoyed watching them. His platoon was now being led by another, and this, too, didn't seem to bother him.

  But it bothered her. And she wasn't stupid.

  "WHAT do you want?" she asked.

  David cut himself off mid yawn at the sharpness of her tone. She'd left the bed before dawn, apparently to wait for sunrise in one of the porch chairs, something she frequently enjoyed doing. Now, however, she seemed intent on other things.

  Giving himself a moment to digest the question, he lifted his mug to his lips and thought how nice it was to enjoy a wake-up cup of coffee. His witch generously worked her magic on any food or liquids he liked tasting. He appreciated it, though it was a minuscule effort for her. Even now, the rocks in the backyard were forming animal shapes and small versions of people that looked like rock children doing comical somersaults.

  Some of the things she could do were awe-inspiring, magnificent, more than a bit frightening. Then there was this side, where she could be... cute. Since he valued his life, he didn't make that observation, particularly since it appeared she'd awakened in a less than pleasant mood.

  The swing was swinging without any visible form of propulsion, and this morning she'd added a mirage of the sea to the normal sunrise view, with dolphins cavorting in the waves. He could hear the soft, rhythmic rush of the surf. Because it was a mirage, it didn't harm any of the actual life in the arid landscape, but he knew she could create oceans. Probably could terra-form an entire planet if she wanted.

  Jonah, Sam and others were speculating on just what purpose she could have. They wondered if sh
e eventually would be too powerful for this world, her energy expanded to the point she would need a larger area, an expanse of universe that would allow her to spin her magic safely.

  That was all well and good, but not until she was ready. Each day she explored more of the bizarre connection within her between light and dark, she became bolder, though the Schism near disaster had set her back a little ways. Take it slow, seawitch, David had counseled her. We don't want to irritate our neighbors by swallowing their homes. He'd won a small cautious smile from that observation. So far, he'd gotten a total of five smiles out of her, each one a rare and unique experience he kept filed in his memory, a growing treasure chest whose sparkle would never fade as he revisited them there.

  He had been telling the truth. While there was an ethereal, overwhelming beauty to her now that simply stole the tongues of anyone who looked at her, he did still see the scars. Hades knew, she'd retained her irascible temper and distrust of pretty much anyone. But it was his hope, as time went on, that he could heal the scars that had remained beneath the surface. Though she didn't fully believe it, he knew the key to her control of the darkness was in her own strength, and the more her scars and fears healed, the stronger she would grow. He was already seeing it.

  "David."

  "Coffee first," he suggested, then winced as she shot him a searing look that scattered one stack of rocks across the porch and bounced several off his ankle. As he sat down on the top step, considering her, he noted she wore the outfit he'd gotten her in the ghost town, the colors of the desert landscape in the print. Her dark silken hair spilled down her back, held back by a pewter dragon comb he'd bought her. The crimson and blue eye focused on him, both now embellished by those soot dark, thick lashes. Goddess, she was beautiful. And ornery as a snake. He smiled into his coffee as she sent another scattering of pebbles over the bare foot he had propped against the opposite side of the porch steps.

  "If you're going to be mean, I'm not going to talk to you at all. Come here." He gave her a steady look over the coffee.

  She rose, came and stood to the right of him. And four pebbles tumbled from the roof edge into his coffee. Plop. Plop. Plop. The fourth one he caught before it hit, never taking his gaze off of hers.

  "Are you angling for a spanking this morning?"

  She cocked her head. "What if I-"

  He was so relaxed now, so leisurely in his approach to so many things, Mina often forgot his ability to move with an angel's speed. The coffee was tossed aside and he had her seized and facedown on his lap, where he administered several quick, stinging slaps to her bare bottom, for she'd not bothered with underwear this morning.

  "Ow. Stop it." But then he set things to pulsing in her as he flipped her back over in his arms and got his hands under her shirt to close over her breasts.

  "Spread your legs for me." The demand was there, quick, implacable, and she did for him what she did for no one else. She obeyed.

  "Now, put your hand down there. I want to watch you."

  "What are you going to be doing?"

  "Get me my coffee back, and I'll tell you."

  She studied him, her breathing erratic, but she didn't even have to gesture, barely had to think of it, before a second mug came out the door, settled into his outstretched hand. He kept the other around her back. "I'm going to sit here, drink my coffee, watch this beautiful sunrise and you. Just that."

  The way he looked at her, as if the heat and intensity of his gaze alone could hold her, was almost enough to push her over. As it was, it was no time before her own fingers, and his insistent, demanding mouth had her rocking and pleading, begging to go over, for of course he never let her go until she begged. And that, too, was part of the balance. The checks and balances.

  When he finally agreed, his cock was an iron bar beneath her wriggling bottom. She exploded on him, his mouth fastened on hers, swallowing her cries until she lay panting and replete in his arms.

  "That's not going to make me forget the question," she managed at last, wanting to feel him release, but his arm remained tight over her, holding her in place.

  "I thought this was my answer."

  Reaching up, she touched his face, his mouth, wet from hers. "Please tell me."

  "You. This. Everywhere we go, the two of us together." He straightened her so she was straddling him, worked her legs around him and snugged her there with a hand on her bottom. "I served the Goddess as a platoon leader. I serve her still, by serving you. Which means protecting you, loving you," he amended, with a glint in his eye. "No way I'm giving you the impression that I'm serving you, witch. I know how demanding you are."

  "Stop it. You want nothing for yourself? There's nothing I can give you, in return for all you've given me?"

  David stopped then, shock flitting across his expression at the pure frustration he heard in her voice. He lifted her hair in both hands, diving deep into the thick lengths of it. "Put me inside of you," he murmured, "and I'll tell you something."

  She was always eager to feel his heated length in her hands, so she didn't mind opening his jeans and having the momentary discomfort of taking him into her channel where the tissues were still ultra sensitive from her climax. "Ah..." Her breath escaped her as she sank down on him. His fingers gripped her hips, his eyes dark on her face.

  "In case you haven't noticed," he said in a husky tone, "taking care of you, watching over you, that's the job I chose, Mina. Being your protector and lover forever. If there comes a day when you're not so much work," he teased her, though there was a catch in his voice as he wrapped her hair around his fist, "I might do some world traveling. Go to Disneyland. Learn macrame. But right now, my slate is full."

  He was moving her now, slow, slower, and she could tell how insane it was making him by the clogging of air in his throat. "But what about your wings?" She put her arms around his shoulders, cheek against his temple, and held on as he gathered her in closer. She wished she'd taken more time to enjoy the soft feel of his feathers, the strangely erotic resilience of the arch of wing, curve of bone. Gods, she missed them, too. It wasn't aesthetic. It was a part of him.

  Being an angel just is.

  "Raphael says they may come back one day, as I mature. But right now, it doesn't matter. This makes more sense, because I can go into places humans frequent without excessive notice."

  "You obviously haven't noticed how women react to you in restaurants and stores."

  "I said excessive." His smile was lost as his breath got more labored, and his hands tightened on her hips. "Jesus, it's never enough. You feel so fucking good. I want you to come with me again."

  "I can put an illusion spell on you so you can go wherever you want, with or without wings. I've gotten really good at them so you-"

  "Hush," he said. And he lifted her away from him and put his mouth on her breasts, suckling the nipples. He took his time, running his tongue up the cleft between, squeezing them together until the combination of stimulus had her writhing on him and unbelievably going up the edge of a climax again.

  "Just you, Mina. I'm here for you. I love you. Believe it, and stop doubting. What is it that you want?"

  "Oh, Goddess, please..."

  "Come for me."

  He released at the same moment, sending her over, their bodies moving together in sinuous rhythm. She put her mouth on his flesh, then her teeth into his shoulder, holding her grip there, drawing blood, until they slowly came to a stop.

  "That's the real question, isn't it, Mina?" He spoke when he had breath again, but continued to hold her close, her head pressed down on his shoulder. He brushed his lips over her hair. "What is it you want?"

  "I was thinking about Anna." She traced the area in between the shoulder blades where his wings used to be. "Her baby. Is it a symbol of hope or of sacrifice? I mean, she wanted to have the baby. So, if she does die because of the curse, Jonah will have a daughter to love, for however long he's given. But I think she's also having the baby in order to say to that curse, '
You have no hold on me. On what I want to do or be.'"

  Raising her head, she looked at him. "You do take care of me, David. You always will, because you told me so. But you're also a soldier. You fight the Dark Ones in a different way."

  She put her hand on his heart. "Give this back to yourself. You can be more than one thing. I'm not afraid of losing you that way, not anymore."

  David stared at her, felt the energy gathering under her fingertips. His energy. She was summoning energy from him, calling it forth, twining it with her own. "Mina, how did you-"

  But in the next moment it was gone, the words ripped away as he caught hold of her body with both hands to keep from toppling her. The wings surged forth from his back, the architecture of vertebrae and skeleton altering in a smooth transition that nevertheless rocked him forward as they stretched, spread out to dry their afterbirth in the sun. He looked at one, blanched, then looked at the other.

  Until he was fifty, the wings would have been the wings of a fledgling, white with tips of brown. But apparently, his timetable had been accelerated, for he was looking at a solid black wing on his left, a solid white on his right, a wholly unique pattern he'd never seen before.

  Mina reached over his shoulders, stroked through them with both hands with childlike delight. Coming away with one small feather of each color, she pinned them into the comb pulling her waist-length hair from her face. "I think they're holding afternoon drills if you want to go join them."

  At his look of indecision, she cradled his face in her hands this time. "I'm right here. I'm yours. You can be at my side in moments. What I need is help to protect the world from me, and you help me do that, David. By loving me. But you need to keep being the warrior you are. We can't keep growing together if we aren't growing separately. The nature of all things is to change," she reminded him. "And so we will change. Always growing stronger."