Magical Misfire

by Kimberly Frost

  The boat lurched, rocked by lightning battering the shield overhead. People stared at the sky, cringing. It was wholly unnatural. The rain poured down but didn’t land. It streamed away like we were under a glass bubble.

  Two drops of water struck my cheek. All right, most of it was diverted by Bryn’s spell, but some trickled through.

  Not good.

  Bryn’s strong magic still ruled the deck of the ship but it wavered. Nature was too powerful to be held at bay forever, especially with the magic of more than one merrow attacking from below at the same time. Even Bryn, supercharged with my synergistic magic, couldn’t hold them off forever.

  I rushed down the aisle, hopping over people who sat in the corridor to brace themselves.

  “Don’t sit here,” I warned. “If the boat capsizes you don’t want to be trapped under it. Get to the open deck and hold the rail.”

  The boat zoomed forward at full speed. When I reached Bryn, I spotted Oliver standing at the rear of the ship, holding out his hands. He was pushing against the storm, too, trying to hold it back.

  The boat bobbed over water, causing my stomach to churn. Then I spotted a whole tribe of merrows popping over the waves and heading for the side of the boat.

  “Bryn,” I yelled, pointing.

  He stood and turned his attention to them. He let go of the shield and hurled magic. Some of the tribe members were struck and driven back. But the others dove. I fired into the waves, shooting two, then lost sight of them.

  A moment later, they slammed the undersurface of the boat. It lifted us clear out of the water. Bryn’s arm shot out and grabbed my wrist.

  “Hang on,” he yelled, pulling me to the rail as the boat rocked upward. My stomach plummeted as the boat rose onto its side.

  We dangled from the rail. Then in terrifyingly slow motion, the boat chose the wrong direction.

  “Oh God!” I yelled, looking around for Mercutio. With a sickening lurch, gravity grabbed the ship and pulled.

  “Deep breath!” Bryn yelled.

  I sucked in air, and the next moment, we plunged underwater. The boat forced us down, and Bryn pulled me deeper and then swam forward, dragging me with him.

  I kicked hard toward the surface, but hands on my legs grabbed me and jerked me back. I unhooked my holster and pulled the knife free. I slashed and connected with bone. The merrow released me, and I swam for my life.

  The merrows could taste our magic. They would grab and drown us if given the chance.

  Bryn’s hand tangled in my hair and pulled me. I was disoriented, but followed his lead, kicking as hard as I could. We broke the surface.

  Bryn raised a hand to cast a spell but I screamed and shook my head.

  “Cloak us,” I said, gasping. “Don’t use magic to fight. Cloak the magic so they can’t feel it and find us!”

  Bryn grimaced, but nodded. He whispered a few words. Huge waves crashed over our heads, tumbling us. I tried not to panic. At least Bryn and I were together.

  What had happened to everyone else?

  Mercutio? Jenna and Lucy? Oliver?

  Lightning lit the night, and I concentrated on sucking in a breath whenever my face broke the surface. We needed life jackets.

  The waves surged toward the shore, and intermittent pulses of magic helped save us.

  We rode the tide to the beach. When we hit land, the tiny pebbles were like a cheese grater scraping my arms and legs. The water slammed us against the ground.

  We crawled up the beach, tired and breathless. I forced my shaking legs to hold me, and we ran inland.

  I grabbed Bryn’s arm when we reached the sidewalk. “Wait.” I bent forward, gasping for breath.

  “We need to keep going. This may turn into a hurricane.”

  I looked along the shore and saw several people from the boat rolling over and over, washing in like driftwood.

  “We have to help,” I said, forcing myself back to the beach.

  We dragged exhausted survivors up the shore.

  I spotted Oliver, unconscious and unmoving. Was he dead? I rushed to him. He wasn’t breathing.

  I bent over him and breathed for him. “Bryn, help!”

  Bryn glanced coolly at Oliver.

  “I know you’re angry but he can help with the storm!” I pumped on Oliver’s chest. I spotted Mercutio dragging a pair of life-jacketed people. I realized it was Jenna and Lucy.

  “Merc, you’re a hero!” I yelled when the pair of Reitgartens got to their feet.

  “Get moving,” Bryn called, waving for everyone from the boat to head deeper inland. “There’s no time to evacuate, but we have to get as far from the beach as possible.”

  Oliver coughed up some water and sucked in air. I moved to another man and did rescue breathing for him. My magic must have helped because everyone I worked on woke up.

  Bryn cast magic to hold back the storm.

  “Tamara, we need to go.”

  “Well, well. You’re alive! I’m impressed,” Sal said, appearing on the shore.

  “Sent us on a suicide mission, huh?” Bryn said knowingly.

  She shrugged. “I’m cursed. To lift the curse, two things have to happen. You took care of the first by returning the merrows to the sea. It’s not my fault they sank the boat afterward.” She shrugged, but it was clear she’d known they would do it.

  “Saints alive, you’re lucky pucks. And you’ve almost taken care of the second thing for me as well. Once my bracelet’s in the hands of the Unseelie queen, I can return to the sea. You have no idea what torture it is to be so close to the water but unable to go out on it. Land-bound! There’s nothing worse!”

  Bryn glared at her. “This storm could destroy the island and kill thousands of people.”

  She shrugged. “That’s the danger of living on the ocean. Storms happen.”

  “Oliver, help us stop the storm. Help us drive it back to sea,” I said.

  Oliver shook his head. “The treasure. The storm will bring in the treasure.”

  I grimaced. “That’s why the storm was conjured? To dredge up your bracelet?” I snapped at Sal, trying to punch her. I’d forgotten she was only a spirit, and I fell through her and landed on my scraped knees. “Sally, you’re a monster.”

  “As soon as the pearls are here, the storm will be over.”

  “A lot of people might drown before that happens!” I spotted enormous waves, tidal waves really, swelling and rolling toward us. “Um, Bryn,” I called, nodding at the sea.

  The beach was deserted except for us, Merc, Oliver, and Sal.

  Bryn frowned. “We can’t outrun those,” Bryn said, raising his arms.

  “Oliver, you have to help us! No treasure will do you any good if we’re all dead,” I said.

  Oliver paused but then had to agree. He nodded and walked over. We moved into a tight circle.

  But then Mercutio meowed and raced forward toward the ocean.

  “Merc!” I yelled, rushing after him. What was he doing? Rain poured down, the drops pelting us.

  Bryn called my name, yelling for me to stop, but I chased Mercutio. He wouldn’t have gone back into the ocean for no reason.

  Bryn’s magic coursed over me as I dove into the water. It wrapped around me, protecting me from the sand and churning stones.

  Teeth sank into my shoulder. I howled, catching a mouthful of salty water. I grabbed slimy hair and yanked, but couldn’t get the merrow off. Fur brushed against me, and Mercutio joined me in my fight against the merrow whose teeth were stubbornly buried in my flesh.

  Desperate for breath as the creature dragged me into deeper water, I felt along its arm. My fingers locked around a delicate chain. I yanked and then kicked and thrashed. I punched the merrow and grabbed her throat. The teeth tore at me, but then we tumbled onto shore, carried by a big wave. I sucked in a gasp of
breath and punched the merrow in the temple, which made it go limp.

  Salt water stung my eyes, making me blink, and Bryn hauled the creature off me.

  Water crashed over my head, and I rolled onto my hands and knees. The surge of water was so strong it lifted me and pushed me higher inland. Mercutio nudged me when I came to a stop. I coughed, hardly able to catch my breath. I looked at the gold and pink pearl bracelet in my hand and slammed it down onto the sand.

  “We’re on land. Treasure is on land,” I yelled.

  With a pop, the pouring rain slowed to a drizzle, and the crashing waves receded.

  Thank God.

  My shoulder wounds seared and throbbed, and my scrapes burned. I needed to rinse off the salt water.

  “Christ, sweetheart,” Bryn said, bending over me. Dirty water dripped from his hair, but he still managed to look gorgeous. That’s not fair, I thought blearily.

  He leaned down and kissed me softly. “You’ve got the devil’s own luck. And his courage,” he said, his Irish accent more pronounced than usual.

  “I don’t know about that,” I said between panting breaths. “But one thing I have got is a certain ghost’s priceless jewelry,” I said with a smirk, holding up the bracelet. “Here,” I said, pressing it into his hand for safekeeping.

  “It’s mine,” Oliver said, reaching for it.

  “No!” Sal raged. “It has to go to the Unseelie. I’ve got a beachcomber coming—”

  Bryn tossed the bracelet onto the sand away from us. Oliver scooped it up.

  “You can take it, Oliver,” Bryn said. “But it’ll make you a target for the Unseelie. It’s a bad idea. If you only want it because you need money, leave it for Sally O’Shea’s beachcomber. Call my office next week. I’ll loan you what your mother needs to save her house and we’ll figure out a way for you to pay me back.”

  “Oh!” I said, throwing my arms around Bryn’s neck and kissing him.

  “It’s almost Christmas,” he said with a shrug and then smiled at me.

  Oliver looked down at the bracelet.

  Bryn pulled me to my feet, buttoned my torn white shirt as best he could, and hugged me.

  Oliver glanced at us and I nodded, saying, “You can trust Bryn. If he says he’ll help. He will.”

  Oliver dropped the bracelet at Sal’s phantom feet, still looking at us. “I don’t deserve your help, but I’ll take it. And I’ll make amends for what happened on the boat.”

  “I’m sure you will,” I said with a smile.

  6

  I took a cool shower, and then Bryn bandaged the worst of my wounds and I bandaged his. Mercutio padded around the room until he got restless and scratched the door. I secured the towel around me a little tighter.

  “Okay, but don’t stay out too late,” I said, opening the door. “And don’t let hotel security see you!”

  Merc meowed and darted out.

  “And thanks for all your help tonight!” I called softly and blew him a kiss. Closing the door, my lids fluttered closed for a second.

  We did it. I have no idea where Jenna and Lucy Reitgarten are, and I don’t have to care!

  I strolled to the bed, climbed onto it, and collapsed against Bryn’s naked torso. “I’m hungry. What should we do about that?”

  “Room service.”

  I sighed. “That sounds great.”

  The knock at the door startled me. “Now what? The Reitgartens with the police?”

  “Let them try,” Bryn said grimly. “Just let them.”

  I giggled.

  “No, it’s room service. I ordered while you were finishing up,” he said. Bryn pulled the blanket over me to cover me, and then he shrugged into a white terry-cloth bathrobe and tied it closed.

  I watched him go to the door. He opened it only wide enough to take the tray and sign the bill. Then he returned to the bed with the tray. I glanced at the desk and table.

  “Should I get up?” I asked.

  “No,” he said. He lifted the cover and there was grilled fish with veggies and bread pudding with chocolate rum sauce.

  He stabbed a spoon into the bread pudding, drenched it in the chocolate sauce and raised it to my lips.

  “I get to have dessert before dinner?” I crooned and sucked it off the spoon. Delectable, delicious, and decadent. I swallowed. “So good!”

  I reached for the spoon, but he shook his head and dug in for another spoonful. He held it to my lips.

  I laughed. “Are you going to feed me every bite?”

  “Yes.”

  “How come?” I asked, licking chocolate sauce off my lips.

  “Because.”

  I smiled. “Mercutio’s the real hero. If he hadn’t sensed the bracelet’s magic and led me to it, we’d have been drowned by tidal waves. And you’re a hero, too. If you hadn’t protected us when we were so far out to sea, we all would’ve drowned before we ever got to shore.”

  He fed me another bite.

  “Right? We’re all sort of heroes today,” I said.

  “Yes.”

  “So how come I’m the one who gets to lie in bed and be fed bread pudding in chocolate rum sauce?”

  “Because.”

  I chuckled. “That is not an answer,” I said and took another bite before I sat up. I wrestled the spoon away from him. “You eat, too. You must be starving.”

  He watched me eat for a few moments before starting on his own food. I smiled as we ate in companionable silence.

  “We make a good team. You and me and Mercutio.”

  Bryn nodded. When we finished, he moved the tray off the bed. Then he walked to the door and put the DO NOT DISTURB sign on the outside.

  “Um, Bryn, what do you have in mind exactly?”

  He tossed his robe on the chair and walked back to the bed. “Guess.”

  “But we’re both pretty scraped up,” I pointed out.

  “Yes,” he agreed, pulling me down onto the bed carefully. “I’ve got a position in mind that won’t hurt.”

  “You do?” I asked, my brows shooting up.

  He nodded. “I thought about it while you were in the shower.”

  I laughed. “You were busy.”

  He positioned me so that none of my wounds had pressure on them.

  “Wow,” I said. I ran a hand over his back, the muscles lean and strong, the skin smooth and gorgeous. “You are so clever.”

  “Yes,” he agreed. “It was the best of times,” he murmured and then he kissed me. Magic and passion laced together, making my lips tingle. The kiss continued till I was breathless with wanting. He really was irresistible sometimes.

  “Have I told you lately that I’m kind of crazy about you?” I asked.

  “No.”

  “Well, Bryn,” I said, moving my hips slowly. “I’m kind of crazy about you.”

  His breath caught and then he exhaled slowly. “Then definitely, it was the best of times.”

  Turn the page for a sneak peek at the next Southern Witch novel

  SLIGHTLY SPELLBOUND

  Coming from Berkley Sensation in May 2014

  1

  No matter how many times people try to kill me, I never seem to get used to it. That goes for spying, too. I’m always startled to find a Peeping Tom . . . or Craig . . . or fire warlock creeping around. The thing is they’d better not let me catch them at it. I’m a redhead. I’m armed. And I don’t take kindly to interruptions when I’m trying out a new cake recipe.

  I didn’t always have a hair-trigger temper, or a hair-trigger weapon tucked in the top kitchen drawer behind the salad tongs, but a couple of months ago, my life changed.

  My name is Tamara Josephine Trask, Tammy Jo to most of my friends. I’m twenty-three years old, and I’m a witch. Or I should say I come from a long line of witches. Until recently, I thought the family
magic skipped over me. It turns out that I actually got a double helping of magic and that my two types of magic, like the creatures they come from—witch and faery—don’t get along. It might have stayed that way, with the two magicks canceling each other out, if I hadn’t had a close encounter with a wizard named Bryn whose own magical heritage is also mixed. From the moment my magic met his, it was trouble for us and anyone within a twenty-mile radius.

  Now it was late December, and the supernatural drama had died down. Country music Christmas carols played on the radio, and in my kitchen I was minding my own business as I sometimes do. I wore a white T-shirt, boot-cut Levi’s, and a black apron with a Julia Child quote in white letters that said, If you’re afraid of butter, just use cream.

  I was in the middle of stirring cake batter that had both butter and cream in it when the trees started kicking up a fuss. I don’t speak tree, but after an unfortunate incident involving pixie dust, I’m usually able to get the gist of what they’re trying to tell me.

  Woody limbs scratched the roof and scraped against the kitchen window, making me look up from the bowl. I slid open the window and said through the screen, “I’m not coming out to visit right now. I’m busy being a regular person.”

  The leaves crackled, and I rolled my eyes. A chilly breeze blew in. I shivered and closed the window. When I turned up the radio, Martina McBride drowned out the trees.

  My ocelot, Mercutio, who’d just woken up, strode into the kitchen. It seemed like God couldn’t make up his mind when he painted ocelot fur. There are stripes on their faces and necks like little tigers, but spots on their bodies like leopards. One thing’s certain, they’re the cutest cats of all, big or small, foreign or domestic. A person might say I’m biased and that person would be right, but that doesn’t mean I’m wrong about ocelots being extremely cute. Just ask the Internet to show you some pictures.

  “The racket woke you up?” I asked as I dripped a couple of drops of cream on my finger and held it down to him.