by Black, Regan
"Just tell me when you saw her."
"Her who?"
"Don't be so blonde, Lily."
"Me?" She hated his continuous baiting. "You're the one going from grateful to stupid in less than sixty seconds."
Cade's fingers drummed the table. Not a good sign. He leaned forward and waited for her to mirror him before he whispered, "The Matchmaker, Lily. Save us both some time and tell me when she came to see you."
Lily leaned back, all hope of enjoying dinner gone. She propped her legs on the bench next to Cade's hip, symbolically caging the bear. "People come to see me all day, as I run a successful retail business. If some freak-eyed old woman with an entourage and a love-sick groom in tow walked into my shop I sure wouldn't be able to keep it a secret. The whole damn town would know, and half of the Angel Oak house, before she had time to introduce herself."
"So you have seen her."
Lily caught the teasing gleam in his eye just before she did something stupid. Like jump across the table and throttle him. She struggled against the hysterical laughter bubbling inside her that threatened to draw more attention than Cade's dark sex appeal.
She tipped back her beer. "Know what I think?" She took another long pull while he shook his head. The alcohol was a welcome contributor to her sudden bravery. "I think you've found a woman and now you're obsessed with the Matchmaker because said female won't have anything to do with you."
His snarl sent her into a flurry of alcohol induced giggles. He sent brooding looks to those customers brave enough to stare and soon it was as if they were completely alone in the packed restaurant. For once, though it was his power that created the effect, she didn't feel inadequate or unworthy, only amused. She giggled harder.
"Why didn't I think of that?" she mused aloud. She'd never considered taking the initiative and seeking out the mythical woman or witch or whatever the Matchmaker technically was.
An observant big brother, Cade clearly recognized the idea taking root in her brain and gaining momentum. "You'll do nothing of the kind. You can't just close up shop."
"Why not? I'm entitled to a vacation." She'd been thinking about it, hadn't she? Delight and terror pulsed alternately through her system. Could the change in her mark really mean her soul mate was nearby? And would he be her soul mate in a good way, or merely the best match for the future of their house? Oh, she was a lightweight. With her mind muddled by beer, she couldn't separate legend from reality. "You really think she came to see me and I didn't recognize her?"
"Good grief, you're drunk."
"Not if you'd let me eat," she pouted.
He pushed the chips closer to her. "Better ask your tattoo buddy for some coffee."
"Ewww. Not here." She wrinkled her nose at him. "Maybe a margarita."
"No way I'm dealing with you after tequila. Where do you recommend we go for coffee?"
"There's a dessert cafe a couple blocks over." They sold superb coffee and a divine praline brownie.
"Lily, pay attention." Cade's whipcrack command brought her back to Mama Rita's and the sting of reality.
"You pay attention. I told you I don't know her. I'm surprised you even believe she's real."
"Oh, she's real all right. And if that thing's changing, she must be close."
"Or my true soul mate is close," she teased, batting her eyelashes.
Cade scoffed. "That's a load of crap old women tell their granddaughters. She's a tyrannical manipulator. At best, she's a useful tool for those in search of stronger allies and more power."
Lily blinked at his harsh assessment, as far from her romantic dreams of white stallions bearing handsome knights as any nightmare.
"We have a bigger problem." He glared over her shoulder at the kitchen doorway. "There's some dark magic brewing in the kitchen. You need to get out of here."
"Dark magic?" She laughed. "I think the habaneros burned out your common sense." But the joke was too late. The spark of battle lit Cade's eyes. She gripped his hand. "Why don't we both get out of here?"
"I'll hold him off, you run."
"Cade, you don't even know what you're up against."
His hard grip landed unerringly on her mark. "I know this makes you a liability."
A slap across the face would have hurt less. She hated the tears welling in her eyes.
"Lily, there's no time for this. I can't defend myself or shield these people if I'm worried whatever it is will carry you off to the Matchmaker."
As if she'd be the target of a love-bolt wedding. Somehow that insanity cleared her head. "Let me shield them." She jerked a thumb in the direction of the other customers. His snort of laughter stung her pride like a thistle. "I'm staying. Deal with it. Besides you haven't finished your beer."
He lifted the bottle to his lips and drained it. "All done now. Can you cover the tip?"
She rolled her eyes and dug out the cash from the bottom of her purse. "There." He was hovering behind her and she knew only time and distance would make him drop the overprotective routine.
"Ready," she said, scooting out of the booth.
His eyes were on the kitchen door, and whatever he thought was in there, his look said he planned to annihilate it. Reaching into his coat, he shoved her toward the front door. "Run!"
"Jeez, Cade." He had to be overreacting. When he moved, her lungs just stopped, her heart too, at the sight of the man looming in the kitchen doorway.
He looked like a man who'd had a hard day, but her magic recognized the creature snarling under the surface. Werewolf.
Worse: werewolf with an attitude and a nasty red rash near his left wrist. His eyes raked her from head to toe and back up again, stopping as if he could see through to the mark burning under her sweater. Her flower-scented dreams went up in smoke and a scream lodged in her throat.
She heard Cade bark another order at her, but she was already bolting for the door, out of the restaurant, before that thing had a chance to match his mark to hers.
Chapter Four
My dearest Amy,
How delightful that you'll be spending January in Charleston! It's a lovely area, though I haven't been there in many years. Midwest winters do get rather stale and you're smart to gather a little sunshine. You simply must spend some time on the beach, but no swimming! That part of the Atlantic in winter is not so friendly. Oh, and you must promise me you'll visit Mama Rita's. Maeve will know just where it is. Oh, how I envy you! If I were to manage some free time, would your musty old aunt be welcome to drop in?
All my love,
Auntie Camille
Dare fumed, faced with the belligerence and tag-teaming of the women sitting on the other side of the kitchen table. First, the new Matchmaker had forced him to discuss these private matters in front of her human friend, over take-out food. True, the human took it well, but now they refused to understand the danger of a Matchmaker lingering in the same town as an irritable, marked werewolf.
"You must leave."
"No." They answered together. Again.
"Guinness likes it here," Amy insisted. "And you've protected me so far. My head even feels normal."
So he'd done a small bit of magic to ease the goose egg on her head. Alone, he couldn't shield her for long. He groaned, earning the hound's attention. He glared down at the beast. "How can you consider a dog's preferences over your own safety?"
"He was a gift from Aunt Camille." Amy's tone was as biting as winter wind on the icy, treeless plains. "So my eyes are weird. No one but Maeve really knows the difference around here."
Dare took a breath and tried again. "The Matchmaker has a team, needs a team, for support, to manage requests, and protect her from those who don't want her around."
"So call in the team. We've got a good system here in the meantime," Maeve said. "Camille knows I'm good as family. We can do this."
Tired of the repetitive message, Dare stared at the woman. Mere hours ago, while Amy had been lying unconscious on the office floor, Maeve had been trying to crawl
inside his clothing. What changed?
"Look –"
"Hush," he ordered, pushing away from the table. He was missing something, some vital magic if the Matchmaker effect no longer influenced Maeve. He stretched out with his senses, searching for the smallest tendril of power, but he couldn't 'see' beyond the Matchmaker herself. The power radiating off Amy was disconcerting, daunting. It should have Maeve begging at his feet. How did he prove the urgency of her situation?
"Your aunt is imprisoned or dead, Amy. Because of her position."
"Ridiculous. There's another explanation."
He shook his head, scrubbed at the stubble on his jaw. Wondered at his extreme lack of ability in the face of this challenge. He'd helped match trolls, for the love of holy matrimony. "This is hardly a secure place for you."
"According to you, if I go to a hotel, the staff will start an orgy the moment I arrive." She motioned for him to sit down. "Have another helping."
"I'm not hungry." But he sat, searching for the right angle, the tipping point, as Camille called it. What did he know? Remembering her account of Maeve's odd behavior before the werewolf attack he poured more noodles onto is plate. "This morning wasn't proof enough of the Matchmaker's effect?"
He didn't bother hiding his smirk as both women blushed.
"Save it and all your magic lingo," Amy scolded, glaring at him. "I'm not letting you lock me in a room. Especially a room without Guinness. I can't pop him in a crate and overnight him to the house, you know."
He didn't care if they thought he was a hard ass. However Camille disappeared, by choice or by force, it was enough to cause the transfer of power and he wasn't taking any chances with this Matchmaker. "As the only one in this room with experience, I'm in charge until you have an acceptable team in place."
They stared at him a moment before bursting into laughter. Curse the whole girlfriend system and all their devil networks.
Amy got her breath back first. "I can't just use Camille's team?"
"Not if you stay here." There, he noted that gave them both pause. He used the silence to try and root out what magic might be enhancing Maeve's resistance. The flowers? They were from the florist on King Street. Maybe it was just the depth of their friendship, but that would imply a level of control that had taken Camille years to master.
"I bet the very first matchmaker didn't have a team."
Dare scowled at Maeve. For a 'best' friend, she seemed determined to get Amy killed in a hurry. "No, she didn't. Which is probably why she advised otherwise for those who inherited the post."
Amy cleared her throat. "So how did you meet Aunt Camille?"
"She was my second assignment after graduation." He struggled with the slippery noodles on his plate. "What is so appealing about Thai food?"
Maeve chuckled. "You said you liked it."
"I do. Tonight it seems particularly challenging." He nudged the plate aside, only to move it again as the dog came sniffing around. His hand brushed the basket of flowers and he felt another jolt of magic. Not comfort this time as much as joy for life, as if he'd been whisked down memory lane to the brightest moment of his childhood.
Being so far from the assistance of Camille's well-trained team, he had to consider tapping local power to protect the Matchmaker. "You have not received a package from the M – from Camille?"
Amy sighed, clearly perturbed, though he'd directed the question at Maeve. He didn't trust her not to hide such a delivery from him, thinking she was protecting her friend. He'd never had a greater appreciation for his role on the security detail rather than at the negotiations proper. Relationships were a pain in the ass, and personal agendas twisted up things that should be easy.
"We've covered this," Amy began.
"Only the letter, delivered by you. If she sent a package –" Maeve continued.
"A book."
"– a package like a book," Amy agreed. "My assistant probably assumed it was the annual delivery of grandma's fruitcake. No one wants to open that."
"True enough."
"You know about my grandma's fruitcake?"
Darian winced, making a cross with his fingers.
"He knows," Maeve confirmed. "But the letter says the package would be hand-delivered."
"Like I delivered the letter," Dare said, nodding. He could only hope the book's messenger was having better luck. What had Camille been thinking, taking these risks?
"Dare, you've more than qualified yourself as a friend of the family, but that doesn't mean I'm leaving Charleston before this class is done. I made a plan and a list of things I wanted to do here."
He understood plans, respected lists, but the danger surrounding her was very real. "And what of those things with their own plans and lists that include your capture or death?"
It hurt to even speak the words and he rubbed his chest where his heart ached with guilt and failure. He didn't expect it to get easier. The Guards trained him, but some things – the grittier sorts of things – couldn't be adequately expressed by theory.
He'd watched Camille write thousands of letters during his service as her bodyguard. Personally, he'd posted several to Amy. Not once had Camille given a single clue to the trouble she was facing.
The trouble she'd faced alone.
"You really think Camille is gone."
Dare sympathized with Amy's inability to speak of a more dire, permanent result, but there was no getting around the facts. This young woman had come into the power with unparalleled speed. "There is ever only one Matchmaker. You have the eyes." He thought of Maeve's earlier advances. "You have the effect. It is time to accept it and behave accordingly."
She reached down to pet the greyhound's ear. "It's so much to take in. Too much. What I considered an exercise in mythology and legends of literature, you're saying was my aunt's way of preparing me."
And that worried him more than he cared to admit.
There was an explanation, one only Camille could provide. How had he spent every day and night with the woman and not known her, not known what she'd been thinking or planning?
It took a canny woman – or a fool – to send a legendary book of power across continents through the mail service. Camille wasn't a fool. A fool wouldn't have cared enough to make provisions for a sudden demise. And thinking of her demise saddened him.
"I need to get out of here," Amy said, coming to her feet.
Finally! "We can be on the road in an hour." But the weak smile on her face deflated him. "Of course that's not what you meant."
"No. There's too much I want to see here. Can't we just walk down to the Battery? The houses still have Christmas lights up."
"Surely you've done this with her already." He pointed at Maeve. He didn't want to think about how much energy it would require to escort her among susceptible humans and keep her safe from the more dangerous elements.
"Well, yeah. But you haven't. You should see something of the world."
Dare did a double take. Was this more hand me down memory? Camille had said the same thing before she'd sent him off with the letter for Amy. He'd seen plenty of the world traveling from one assignment to the other ensuring the safety of the Matchmaker.
"We can keep it short. It's really a nice night."
Dare relented. Compromise was key in negotiations. "We'll have to keep it short. I don't have a lot of strength left to shield you."
"Shield me?"
"Your effect on humans. It's probably increasing by the hour. With a shield charm I can keep them sane. With a small modification, I can add enough to keep you safe from other species as well."
"I see."
"Cool!"
For the first time the two women had had different reactions.
He shrugged. "It's a compromise." A tactic he rarely practiced. Camille listened to his advice. He knew better than to waste time comparing this matchmaker with the last one, but circumstances had changed so quickly, it was a natural reaction. "We go out and do this and you go home to the book."<
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"I don't intend to go home until I spend a day on the beach."
He didn't like that gleam in her eye or the 'take a shot' tilt of her chin. Dare felt the blood pulse in his pointed ears. "The beach." Choose your battles. A favorite phrase of Camille, the Elite Guard, and his mother. He might even call it his motto. "We'll discuss it later." After she spent some time out in public, witnessing the havoc she created. He made a sweeping bow to the door. "After you."
"Come on, Guinness." The dog leaped to action, prancing as she clipped the leash to his collar.
"You two have fun," Maeve called after them.
As he watched Amy saunter out into the cool evening he felt a wicked urge to lift the magic he was using to protect her. It was the fastest way to convince her to heed his advice, but he needed her to trust him. At least until she was in possession of the book and another of the Elite Guard could relieve him.
He walked beside her down the narrow sidewalk, with no care for the few centuries the humans celebrated. Bleak thoughts about his future clouded his view. Gilly had sent him another text while they'd been arguing over Thai food and it wasn't any cause for hope.
What was he going to do? Traveling just to 'see the world' wasn't his idea of a good time. He missed Camille, he missed his professional calling. Why send him away just when she needed him most? His breath hitched as pain lanced through his heart.
"Are you all right?"
He forced a smile and shrugged off her concern.
"You're doing the shield thing for me, right?"
He nodded.
"Does it hurt?"
He shook his head and pointed to the twinkling lights of the nearest house as they turned onto the street lined with massive mansions. The architecture was beautiful, but he wasn't the sort to enjoy living in a big crowd of people who weren't aware enough to acknowledge his existence. Although he had to confess, Charleston was less populated than other areas of the world the Matchmakers didn't think he'd seen.
"Will I always need someone to shield me?"
He shook his head again, not trusting his voice. His mind was running through the odds of finding Camille. Regardless of the hard line he'd given Amy, he refused to believe she was dead. He wondered if he could find her now that she wasn't the Matchmaker. To those who knew of magic and legends, the Matchmaker glowed like a beacon. It was one reason she traveled with a team. For protection, assistance, and companionship.