Bewitching the Beast

by Tamara Hughes

  Ethan glanced back. “It’s in storage for the winter.”

  She knew it. He had a bike. In her mind, their kiss turned passionate, possessive. She’d trail a hand down his chest, over the supple leather of his jacket. Then she’d close her eyes and sink into him, the bag in his arm crinkling in protest. Something crinkled next to her ear. Oh. She loosened her hold on the grocery bag she carried. “What kind of bike do you have?”

  In her fantasy, they stumbled down the hallway, eager for the privacy of her apartment.

  “A Harley,” he said, stopping by her door.

  “Of course it is.” The sensual, richness to her tone shocked her. Where had that come from? Maybe she should change jobs . . . become a phone-sex operator. Then she might actually get some cleaning done around the apartment.

  Turning the doorknob, she bumped the door with her hip to shove it open and envisioned being drawn to his lips again. She’d grab the waist of his jeans and back into the apartment. Finally, some privacy.

  “You still haven’t fixed the door.” Her mother’s voice doused her like a pitcher of ice water splashing down on her head.

  “M-Mom,” she stammered. Although daydreaming about Ethan wasn’t a crime, the urge to squirm under her mother’s scrutiny was crazy strong.

  Ethan set the groceries on the kitchen counter, oblivious to all he’d done in her mind. “Hello, Mrs. Edwards.”

  Her mother stood by the stove, a sponge clenched in her hand and her lips drawn into a thin line. Her gaze fixed on the trail of white on Ethan’s shoulder. “What happened to your jacket?” she asked in a too-innocent tone.

  Ethan glanced at the stain. “Oh, yeah. Be careful when you go outside. There’s a freakish bird out there. It dive-bombed us and left a prize on my shoulder.” He removed his jacket and took a closer look at the poop-laden leather. “I’m going to clean this up.” On his way to the bathroom, Ethan gave Tess a look that told her to make nice.

  What did he know? Tess faced her mother and forced herself to relax. She wasn’t a child anymore. “You don’t look surprised about the bird attacking us.”

  “It didn’t attack you, did it?” Her mother’s eyes glowed with self-satisfaction.

  Tess frowned. “You sent the bird after Ethan, didn’t you? With magic.”

  A smirk flickered across her mother’s lips as she turned to the stove.

  That did it. Her mother’s ego really ripped her shorts. “Why are you here?” The rich aroma of chicken stew invaded her senses, and her attention slid to a large pot on the back burner of the stove. Chicken. Of course.

  “It’s about time you showed up. I’ve been waiting here half the afternoon.” Her mother turned to scour the little brown spots off the stove.

  Tess set her grocery bag down. “I thought you’d be in Wisconsin by now.”

  Her mother scrubbed faster. “I never intended to go home, not without you.”

  “You’re wasting your time. I’m not leaving.”

  “You can always change your mind.” Her mom put her back into her cleaning. Those spots would come off the stove if she had to burn through ten sponges to get the job done.

  “I won’t change my mind,” Tess insisted. “So there’s no point in staying.”

  Her mother ignored her.

  Of all the stubborn, annoying . . . Tess strode over. “Mom, put down the damn sponge and look at me.”

  Exhaling a long breath, her mother straightened. Her eyes swept the floor before they met Tess’s. “I’ve made mistakes. I know that. But leaving you to deal with all this on your own is not going to be another one.”

  “Maybe I don’t want your help.” Although Tess’s voice hitched, she pressed on. “You lied to me. Worse, you turned your back on Gram.”

  Returning her attention to the stove, her mother rubbed the sponge over a spot, slower this time. “I know you, Tess. You can’t stay mad forever,” she muttered, almost to herself.

  Tess clenched her teeth. “Why do you always do this? You sweep things under the carpet and pretend like everything’s okay, like nothing ever happened.”

  “I said I was sorry. What more do you want from me?”

  “You did? How weird. I don’t remember.”

  The scrubbing stopped. “If that’s all it takes to get you to listen to reason, I’m sorry.”

  “So sincere.”

  Her mother’s eyes locked with hers.

  The pain and guilt Tess saw in their depths twisted her insides.

  “I lost one daughter. I’m not going to lose another.” She turned to the stove and stared at its surface. “So, you’re stuck with me, like it or not.”

  Faith. Tess missed her too. Not a day went by she didn’t think about her sister and wonder if she was still alive. The image of her mother sitting on Faith’s bed sobbing in Dad’s arms would forever be locked inside her brain. Her mother had suffocated her that year with her constant attention, her need to make up for everything she would miss with Faith.

  Wait a minute. Not fair. The guilt card. Her mother had played it with the skill of a con artist. And like the innocent allure of a shell game, it never failed to penetrate Tess’s defenses. Still, there was no denying her mother’s pain was real. That was what clinched it. Her desire to fight deflated like an old balloon. “I think some of those spots came with the stove. You’d be better off with a chisel than a sponge.”

  Her mother’s shoulders visibly relaxed.

  Chewing the inside of her lip, Tess stepped over to the grocery bags on the counter. Her mother could stay, but that didn’t mean she forgave her. Mom had made decisions she had no right to make, and it stung. Tess grabbed a few frozen pizzas from the bag and carried them to the refrigerator. Her mother’s eyes shot to Ethan. He’d found a piece of paper and a pencil and was eyeing up the doorframe.

  “He should go.” Mom nodded in his direction.

  Tess opened the freezer door. Packages of meat and frozen vegetables were suddenly where a gaping frost-caked hole should be. “How long are you staying?”

  “As long as I need to.”

  She shoved the pizzas on top of the new supplies. “Ethan’s a good guy.”

  “He’s a beast,” her mother reminded her, as if Tess didn’t remember that rather important fact.

  “Fine, but he’s a good beast.” Tess fished several packages of ramen from another bag and crossed to the cupboard to stack them inside.

  “Tess, you can’t get involved with him.”

  Tess’s heart jumped. Did her mother know she and Ethan had kissed? Maybe by using some magical spying technique? “What are you talking about?”

  “I see the way you look at each other, and whatever’s happening between you two should stop.”

  How they looked at one another? That was it? Whew. Tess glanced at Ethan, who was a little too engrossed in a strip of wood not to be listening. “Pfft. Nothing is happening.” She busied herself rearranging her mostly empty cupboard, just in case something on her face gave away the lie. “Not that it’s any of your business. I’m an adult. I can get involved with whomever I wish.”

  Her mother reached over and grasped her arm. “He’s taking advantage of you.”

  “We’re not together”—she shrugged—“and even if we were, have you considered that maybe I’m taking advantage of him?”

  “This isn’t funny.” Annoyance hardened her mother’s gaze. “Your grandmother saw you die by the hand of a beast. Having any sort of relationship with him is going to lead to disaster.”

  “Give me some credit. I know what I’m doing.” Maybe. She shook off her mother’s hand and headed back to the grocery bags, where she snatched up the eggs. “I’ll be fine,” she muttered to herself as much as her mother. Cracks in two shells were visible through the holes in the top of the ca
rton. Crap. She tossed the broken eggs into the garbage can and stole a peek at Ethan, meeting his stare. From the resigned expression on his face, he agreed with her mother. Who was she kidding? He agreed with her mother probably because her mother was right. Ethan would lead her to disaster. And not only because of the prophesy. He was a heartbreak waiting to happen.

  But he needed her. If she sent him away, he’d have no hope of keeping The Beast from taking over. And if she were honest, she needed him too. Since she’d met him, she’d been slowly coming out of the funk she’d been in for the last nine months. It didn’t matter what her mother thought. For better or worse, she and Ethan had to stick together come what may.

  Chapter 10

  “How’s your stew?” Her mother eyed Tess’s full bowl, the only bowl on the table that wasn’t empty.

  Tess propped her chin in her hand and took another bite of bread. “Great. Love it.” No point in arguing. They’d discussed her alleged allergy too many times in the past. Her mother would never believe her.

  Ethan leaned back in his chair. “Great stew, Mrs. Edwards. Nothing like homemade.”

  Suck up.

  Her mother ignored him. She rose and snatched empty dishes off the table. “Tess, how would you know how good it is? You haven’t tried it.”

  Tess picked at the half-eaten slice of bread in her hand. “I’m on a new diet. It’s the exact opposite of the South Beach—nothing but carbs.”

  “Can I help clear plates?” Ethan asked.

  He didn’t get it, did he? Her mother wasn’t going to warm to him, ever.

  “I’d rather you left.” Her mother gave him a hard stare.

  “Mom, stop. You don’t know him.”

  “I know enough.”

  Tess sat up and tossed the bread onto her plate. “I’m curious. Yesterday you knew about Ethan’s beast problem before you walked through my door. How is that possible?”

  “The same way I knew you were in trouble.” Her mother strode to the kitchen with an armload of dishes. “I scry every night to keep in touch with you.”

  Tess carried her plate to the sink. “I don’t understand.”

  “Have you ever studied the shapes of clouds?”

  “Who hasn’t?”

  “It’s similar to that.”

  “You knew about Ethan’s beast by looking at the clouds. What did it look like?”

  Her mother shook her head and ran water into the sink, adding a squirt of dish soap. “No, I didn’t see his beast in the clouds. I typically use soil or herbs to scry. Similar to reading tea leaves, I sprinkle some on a clear surface and interpret the designs I see.”

  Tess lifted the turquoise pendant around her neck and smoothed it between her fingertips. “Can I try?” The more she read Gram’s book, the more confused she got. Maybe if someone could walk her through the spells.

  “You can’t practice magic on a whim.” Her mother turned off the faucet and picked up the sponge. “To make magic work, you need to believe, dedicate yourself to the craft.”

  Dedicate herself to the craft. Tess stared down at the foaming bubbles in the sink. Did she have a choice? If she didn’t learn how to become a witch, how would she defend herself? “I can do the dishes.”

  “No.” Her mother started scrubbing bowls as if the shiny surface needed to come off with the last bits of stew.

  “No? Who turns down an offer to do the dishes?”

  Her mother set down the sponge. “If you want to learn the craft, there’s no time like the present. Start by getting in tune with the world around you.”

  Where did that come from? “I thought you didn’t want me to practice magic on a whim.”

  “You want to learn, so let’s see how you do. First, you need to recognize the forces of nature. Everything around us contains energy you can feel and use. Go into the living room and give it a try. I’ll come over when I’m done.”

  Ethan headed for the kitchen. “Let me wash. You can help Tess.”

  “This won’t take me long.” Her mother’s voice had a cold edge. In all the years Tess had known her, she’d never allowed a guest to clean up, even an unwanted guest. And no way would she leave dirty dishes in the sink.

  Tess rolled her eyes at Ethan and got the smile she was going for. “Ignore her,” she mouthed and grasped his hand. “Want to try sensing nature with me?” She could feel her mother’s glare follow her to the couch.

  “Sure, why not.”

  Tess glanced at Ethan with an I-wish-I-knew-what-I-was-doing grimace. What the heck? She’d give it a shot. Tess closed her eyes and tried to take it all in. The clank of dishes. Her mother’s teeth grinding together. The steam whistling from her mother’s ears.

  Stop. Deep breath. She tried again. Stale, lifeless air. Muffled sirens. Chicken stew and her mother’s stubborn denial of food allergies that actually did exist, thank you very much. Tess’s neck began to ache.

  Ethan nudged her. “You look tense. Here.”

  She opened her eyes, and he motioned to her to turn her back toward him. A massage? Awesome. His hands skimmed over her shoulders, his gentle touch brushing down her arms before lightly kneading her spine.

  The dishes clanked louder. Like she could afford new dishes if her mother decided to throw them at their heads. Then again, her mother had a point. As much as she liked the feel of Ethan’s hands splayed on her back—ooh, she did like that—she wasn’t learning a thing about nature. That and she couldn’t relax with all the clanking going on. Tess drew Ethan’s hands from her shoulders.

  Learning magic wasn’t a whim. Fighting a beast would require everything she had. What’s more, every time she opened Gram’s book or wore the pendant, she felt a connection with her, and she was sure the bond would strengthen the more she learned. “I’m going to the roof to see if New York has any nature.”

  Her mother wiped her hands on a towel. “Is it safe? It’s dark.”

  “There are lights up there. It’s our building’s ‘park.’ It’s rundown, but it has some trees, well two trees, and grass, covered by snow.” Tess grabbed her coat and a blanket.

  “I’ll go with you.” Ethan shrugged into his jacket.

  “I need to be alone.” He was one distraction she couldn’t ignore.

  Ethan followed her to the doorway. “I’m coming with you. You’re still slightly low on positive energy. I’m not taking any chances.”

  Tess glanced over to her mother. A little help here.

  Her mother contemplated Ethan for a long minute, then released a breath. “I don’t want you going by yourself. I’ll meet you when I’m done cleaning up.”

  Great. First Ethan and now her mother. Maybe the marching band would make a visit to the roof too.

  “Careful,” her mother added. “That bird may still be out there.”

  Ah. Her mother’s watchdog . . . er, bird.

  “What floor is the park on?” Ethan asked.

  “Sixth.”

  He nodded at her mother. “See you in a few.”

  Some of the annoyance drained from her mother’s face.

  Tess left the apartment and climbed the three flights of stairs to the “roof.” Technically it wasn’t the top of the building, but the little patch of green was what had attracted her to this place to begin with. That and the subsidized rent. Okay, mostly the cheap rent, still she’d always liked the park.

  Ethan followed close behind. “You have to give your mother a chance, Tess.”

  She braced herself against the nighttime chill and opened the steel door to the wintry wonderland. Icy air clung to her cheeks. The path lights half-covered by snow weren’t needed. The glow of the city did the job. Tess hadn’t been up here in a while. It seemed a lot smaller than she remembered. A few scrawny bushes did their best to hide the monstrous v
entilation system, while two bare trees reached for the sky like bony hands. Kind of creepy.

  “Tess.” Ethan’s voice rumbled with impatience.

  “Ethan, stop. You don’t know my mother.” After pulling on the fluffy, white mittens she’d tugged from her coat pockets, she spread out her blanket on a wooden bench near the core of the building and sat down. Even with her long wool coat, the cold seeped through the layers beneath her to pinch her butt. She closed her eyes and tried to feel nature.

  “I can tell she’s worried. She wants to help you.”

  Tess peeked out of one eye. Ethan stood, leaning against the brick wall. “If she had her way, I’d live in a bubble,” she grumbled. “She wants to take over my life.”

  “I don’t believe that.”

  “You don’t? She comes into my apartment without warning and assumes she can do whatever she pleases. And you encourage her. ‘Nice stew, Mrs. Edwards,’” Tess mimicked in a syrupy tone. “Chicken, my favorite.”

  Ethan cracked a smile. “I didn’t say that.”

  Her stomach did a somersault, but she ignored the sensation. “Don’t laugh at me.” His sexy smile never wavered. “You know it would be nice if you were on my side.”

  “I am on your side. I’m on both your sides.”

  “Well, great.” Tess closed her eyes again.

  “Tess.”