If Kyle was going to be a hero for Meaghan, Deck would just have to put on his big-witch panties and be a hero for Kyle.
Not to mention for his family, his cousin’s baby and a pretty girl he barely knew.
But yeah, mostly for the guy Deck had to man up and admit he loved.
Chapter Ten
“We need to plan our defense,” Aunt Jan proclaimed as if her word was law…which, Deck supposed, she assumed it was, since Jocelyn was her miracle grandbaby. “Finish up here and join us when you can. Poor Meaghan must need some rest after the ritual.”
As soon as the older generation cleared the beach, Meaghan laughed and said, “Even after nearly drowning on land, I feel better than I have in ages. I can feel the ocean inside me. I want to hang out here and get to know the ocean better.” She grinned and wrung salt water out of her long hair. “Then again, maybe I should dry off first.”
“I can help you with that.” Deck put his hand on Meaghan’s shoulder. Her sweatshirt was so wet it squished under his hand. Gently, he channeled the excess moisture away from her clothes and hair, enjoying the way her magic lapped at his skin and his own powers as he touched her. “You’ll probably want to change, but at least you’re just damp, not soggy.”
Meaghan, still seated, bounced up and down. A smile lit both her face and her aura. “That’s amazing. Can you teach me to do that? Can we stay here and you can teach me about water magic? The ocean is filling me with energy and I want to learn to use it!”
Part of Deck smiled at her innocent enthusiasm. Part of him cringed at her wish that he teach her.
Meaghan had no idea how badly that idea scared him, or how badly he could screw her up by trying to help her. Someone would teach her. But it wouldn’t be him with his irregular magic and random lightning bolts and occasional earth tremors. Not if he could help it.
Luckily he had a good excuse to put her off for now. “What I just did seems simple, but it’s trickier than you’d think. You need good control and a thorough grounding in magical basics to make sure you don’t dry something—or someone—out too much. You notice your clothes and hair aren’t completely dry. That’s so I didn’t accidentally give you nasty, dried-out hair or worse.”
“Or worse?” Meaghan’s face fell.
“Theoretically you could turn someone into a mummy. I don’t know if that’s ever happened, but a couple of times I left my target feeling like they’d hiked in the desert without a canteen. And since you have an exceptionally strong water power, you’ll have to practice on wet towels even longer than I did.”
He thought that might discourage her, but Meaghan’s disgruntled expression perked up. “So you could use that spell as a weapon?”
Deck was spared the difficulty of answering that tricky question because Elissa did it for him. “There’s nothing like dealing with the Agency to make you want to blast someone to the Otherside, is there?”
“They want to hurt your baby the way they did me. I’d rather hurt them first.”
Elissa made a small, strained noise. “Trust me, so would I. But Donovans can’t kill with magic. It can destroy our powers or even kill us with the rebound. Certain warrior witch families”—she looked at Deck as she said that, since Deck’s mother was from one of those families—“have lethal spells in their traditions, and some wild witches, but not all, can use deadly magic if the need is great enough. We don’t know your background, so it’s best you don’t try anything too crazy until we know more about how your powers work or I can study your genetics. As for that particular spell, though, a skilled water witch could use it to incapacitate or distract an enemy without killing him. It would take serious control, but it’s possible.”
Interesting. Not long ago, Elissa had echoed the Donovan party line that killing with magic was bad, no matter who did it, and never mind that her own grandmother, Josie, a wild witch, had taken out a few otherwise unstoppable public menaces before she married into the Donovans. Now Elissa had modified her stance to one more in line with Deck’s own. Just because deadly force would never work for him didn’t mean it wasn’t legit for his Norwegian cousins.
Thank goodness magic knew your intentions, so “using deadly force by accident” wouldn’t count. He hadn’t yet, but his father always assured him it was a matter of time.
“I see.” Meaghan’s brow wrinkled. “One more reason to start studying. I’d hate to kill someone by mistake.” Something in her tone suggested she wouldn’t mind so much doing it on purpose.
“Dry shoes first,” Deck cautioned. And a proper teacher. One who isn’t me.
She laughed ruefully. “Yeah. My feet are cold.”
“So here’s a question.” Kyle stood, helping Meaghan to her feet as he did. With him holding her arm—half guiding her, Deck thought, and half not wanting to break the contact. As they walked in a tight group back toward the complex, he continued, “The Donovans all know the Agency is doing terrible things. So why haven’t you guys and the other witch clans ganged up on them?”
“Irish Potato Famine,” Deck and Elissa said in unison.
“Uncontained magical war has unintended consequences,” Elissa elaborated, “even if you’re not using deadly spells. It upsets the balance if you draw on natural forces like we do. Last time the Donovans got involved in a war, three-quarters of a million people died by accident.”
“Which even I have to admit is a good reason to be cautious,” Deck said. “Not to mention we try to work within human law. My parents and Elissa’s dad and the elders of the other witch clans have been working the political angle with the Agency. We thought they were making progress, especially after Elissa and the guys uncovered the New York facility, but I guess the Agency just took their shit farther underground.”
“Get me up to speed with my magic,” Meaghan said, her voice strong and clear over the surf. “I’ll pretend I want to go back to them. They think I’m their tool. That I’m weak. That I might actually want to come back when I find out how hard it is for a seer to live outside their shields. And once I’m back I’ll fucking turn them into mummies.” Deck would have thought she was making a dubious joke, but the expression on her face was serious.
“It’s too dangerous,” Kyle insisted. “You heard what Elissa said. No one knows if you could survive doing that kind of magic.”
“Trust me, I understand where you’re coming from.” Jude growled, a soft, menacing sound. “But the Agency’s too big to take on alone.”
Elissa raised one hand, looked around. Deck saw her aura extend as if checking for any other witches in hearing range. “We’re nearly at the main house,” she whispered. “Keep your voices down. The old folks would get their panties in a wad if they heard Meaghan suggest that.”
Deck forced himself to grin and sound like his usual devil-may-care self. “I thought that was one of the beauties of Meaghan’s idea. The downside, of course, is that it’s suicidal. Even if you can work lethal magic without harming yourself, which we don’t know, there’s one Meaghan and a whole bunch of agents. You could take some of them down, but then they’d squash you like a bug.”
Meaghan shrugged. “If it made them think twice about coming after Jocelyn, it would be worth it.”
“No, it wouldn’t.” Deck surprised himself by his vehemence—must be her water power linking with his, making him feel like he and Meaghan were old friends, not recent acquaintances. He quickly turned it into a joke. “I’m selfish, you know. Can’t have a pretty woman dying before I’ve gotten to flirt with her. But seriously, there has to be a better way. And if anyone can figure out a better way, it’s this family, working together.” He hoped. They hadn’t until now. But they’d never been so personally threatened by the Agency before.
Jude shrugged. “Something that crazy might be worth it if I thought it would work. Though I prefer the idea of me and Rafe doing it since all we’d have to worry about is the Agen
cy killing us, not our brains imploding from doing the wrong kind of magic. But killing a few of them, even killing a lot of them, doesn’t stop them. We learned this in New York. They need to be brought down completely.”
Deck cursed mentally. When he ran out of foul English and Gaelic words, he threw in a few Norwegian ones. Then he took a deep breath. “And in that case, good defenses here and my parents and Uncle Dermott are probably still our best hope. Damn it. I hate waiting for the cavalry to come to the rescue.”
“Especially since my dad and your parents are in some war-torn, Powers-forsaken Third World country,” Elissa added.
“Trying to fix things for strangers, instead of taking care of the family.”
Just like they had been when Elissa and Jude had almost gotten themselves killed by the Agency, and when Paul and his husband had been kidnapped by sorcerers who wanted them dead.
Superheroes were handy unless you were related to them.
Then they were busy rescuing someone else.
“And when the cavalry gets here, they’ll inevitably find some reason to say ‘I told you so’ to both of us.” Elissa hugged Deck, her familiar scent of herbs and pears surrounding him. “We’ll see you guys soon. I can tell Jocelyn wants to nurse. And honestly, I can’t stand being away from her much longer, even though Rafe’s with her.”
After Elissa and Jude headed over to their cabin, Deck hesitated at the base of the stairs to his apartment, caught in a wild surge of confusion. Kyle was in easy-touching range, disheveled by wind and by the craziness of the ritual, and Deck’s body was of the opinion they really needed to go upstairs and fuck until neither of them could walk away again.
But Meaghan was with them and his magic prompted him that he couldn’t abandon her, not with her water magic so new and raw and wild.
He tried to convince himself that it wasn’t his job to take care of her. Donovan’s Cove was crawling with relatives who’d see to it she had companionship. It was close enough to dinnertime that people would be gathered in the dining room and nearby library. Someone would take Meaghan under their wing. Someone who didn’t have the prospect of a reunion with a long-lost lover tonight.
But the long-lost lover was the only person here Meaghan knew at all. He really needed to let Meaghan hang out with him and Kyle. While he might not be the most responsible guy on the planet, he liked the woman and it would be downright mean to abandon her when she was this vulnerable.
Which meant no kinky sex with his favorite otter.
His body helpfully reminded him that he and Kyle were both bi and Meaghan was attractive, and Kyle was showing every sign of interest in her. All kinds of sexy possibilities ran through his mind, or maybe it was his cock.
Right. Deck was the Donovans’ official King of Bad Ideas, but that took bad ideas to a new level. Meaghan was pretty, tough-minded and a little crazy—everything he’d normally like in a woman—but he’d just met her. And she was traumatized in Powers only knew how many ways.
He gazed at Kyle, mouthed, “Later. Your ass, my dick,” and ushered them upstairs.
He did take a few seconds to appreciate the view of both Kyle’s ass and Meaghan’s as they entered his space.
As soon as the door shut behind them, Meaghan put her hand over Kyle’s heart. Deck drew in a deep breath as magic shifted in the room. “I hadn’t wanted to say anything in front of the others,” Meaghan said, “but the whole suicidal-risk thing isn’t a big deal. I have a progressive neurological disorder that’s going to kill me anyway. Might as well go out with a bang.”
Her voice was calm, rock steady, as if her own death didn’t mean a thing to her. Maybe it didn’t, given the life she’d had.
Kyle’s brown hand clasped over Meaghan’s small, pale one. He drew her close and kissed her forehead.
The room switched to slow motion. Before Deck thought twice, he went to them and wrapped his arms around them both. Meaghan was still as stone, her slight body rigid. Kyle was trembling.
The two of them felt so right against him. He already needed Kyle so much it terrified him, but how could Meaghan feel so right when he hardly knew her? And how could it hurt so much to know that he’d lose her before he had time to know her?
Because a young person with a fatal illness was horrible news, no matter how you sliced it. No need to romanticize it more than that, he told himself firmly. Plus, Meaghan was attractive and brave and he suspected he’d really like her, given time, and he had more of a sentimental streak than he cared to admit.
Suddenly red magic kicked in, warming him against the chill of Meaghan’s words. It wasn’t the sparkling and dancing that was supposed to happen when you made love with your perfect magical partner, but there had to be something to the compatible-magic theory because contact with the two of them ramped up his power, his emotions, his libido. Kyle always felt pretty damn good to him. Kyle and Meaghan together felt even better.
“We’ll fix it,” Deck promised, though his healing magic was minimal and he had no right to make such a promise. “If there’s a way to fix it, we’ll fix it.”
“No doctors.” Meaghan spoke as adamantly as if she were channeling every Donovan woman who’d ever lived.
Deck forced himself to laugh. She seemed to like the sound of it. “Doctor smoctor. My family can get away with being officious and holier than thou because they really are the best in the world at what they do. My grandmother and Aunt Jan are better than any doctors on the planet. And there’s no poking with needles involved.” He paused, then added, “Although there’s sometimes poking around in your head, which is strange.”
She shuddered, as if imagining another presence in her head, her head in which she was finally alone.
Just her and the disease that was eating the life she’d just wrestled back from the Agency. And Deck was determined to get rid of that. He wanted her to live with a desperation he couldn’t explain. Sure, he’d want to help anyone with a terminal illness—but this was different. This was personal.
Selfish, even. He sensed Kyle’s world would be poorer without her in it. Which meant so would his.
He rested his hand on her shoulder. Lord and Lady, her bones were as fine as a bird’s, and she was desperately thin, but she had a core of steel strength under that fragility. And her magic, flowing in waves like water, was as powerful as any he’d encountered. “Someone here can help you. I promise.”
Meaghan nodded. It looked like she was meeting his gaze, but that had to be an illusion. “I’ll let them have a go at me—but you have to promise to teach me how to use my magic. I have to learn fast. I don’t have much time. If they’re coming for Jocelyn, none of us do.”
“I’ll teach you.” Deck’s voice cracked slightly as he said it. The weight of the commitment was almost too much to bear. He wasn’t good enough to teach her, wasn’t safe to teach her. But someone had to. His grandmother and aunt could save her from her medical issue, but she had to be able to survive fighting the Agency. And unless his sister Maura or his cousin Finn came home unexpectedly, with their own water magic and their teaching abilities, it was all on him. He tried to cover his panic, but he suspected Meaghan caught it. For someone who couldn’t see, she didn’t miss much.
In an attempt to hide his agitation, he turned Meaghan around in Kyle’s arms and kissed her. Kyle’s arms stayed wrapped around her, supporting her, and he could feel Kyle’s dual heat, Kyle’s desire for him—no, for both of them, just as he’d suspected—despite the difficulty of the moment.
He tried to make it a gentle, reassuring kiss, but once he tasted Meaghan’s sweet lips, the cool, oceanic waves of her power and the warmth of her unexpected desire on his skin, it was damn hard not to take it further.
His magic had its own ideas about Meaghan. Though Deck’s healing abilities were limited, the human body contained so much water he could tell if something was seriously wrong with someone. And
Meaghan didn’t feel dangerously ill. Her energy seemed off-kilter, but for all he knew, simply being blind might make her energy different from most people’s because she processed information differently. Meaghan tasted of intense but friendly water magic, something else familiar and strong and a little scary, and she wrapped her arms around him and kissed back, pressing her body against him. Her aura embraced him as hard as her slender arms could not. When he looked at her with witch-sight, she didn’t look fragile at all. Like Elissa, she was petite, but she packed a lot of magic and will into a small body.
Common sense and the sexual decency that every Donovan learned from an early age—a necessity when red magic, and thus the ability to seduce even without meaning to, ran in the family—kicked in. She’d been abused magically and physically; she might have been sexually abused as well. And she’d just told him she was dying. Even if he wasn’t sure the diagnosis was correct, she believed it, and it was rude to turn a gesture of comfort into one of possessiveness and lust. He pulled away, almost apologized, but decided that would be rude in itself since she’d shown every sign of enjoying the kiss. “I hope that was all right,” he said instead, surprised by how hesitant and humble his voice sounded. It wasn’t his usual style, but Meaghan threw him for a loop.
Meaghan didn’t say anything at first, but she looked up at him with huge, unseeing green eyes—it was uncanny the way she met his gaze even though she couldn’t see him, and he was pretty used to uncanny. She was smiling, her oversized aura peaceful and happy.
And heavily streaked with arousal.
Finally she spoke, and when she did, her voice was husky and amused. “All right? That was more than all right. I’m sick, but I’m not dead yet. Even my hair’s all tingly and happy. But you should kiss Kyle too. It’s only fair.”
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