Goddess, help me. Grace smelled like deep, rich, sweet honey. The kind you get right out of the hive. He wasn’t going to read too much into that because bears loved honey, and he was no exception. He was nowhere near ready to think about the idea he might’ve met his mate. Maybe lots of witches smelled like honey.
You’re lying to yourself, Tabor. You know she’s your mate.
He tried to remind himself that she’d only agreed to investigate the tree problem because Baba Yaga offered to lift her curse. He couldn’t hear or see the ghostly witch that haunted her, but if her reactions were any indication, that Dorcas Hoar made a hornet look cuddly.
Mate. Mate. Mate. She’s your mate. Admit it. Then get on with the courting.
That voice sounded a lot like his mother’s. Ugh. He pulled the remote out from underneath him and tossed into on the coffee table. Just as he closed his eyes, the radio went off again. He uncurled an arm and attempted to smack the annoying device. His balance shifted, and he rolled off the couch. The back of his head thwacked the clock, pushing several buttons. The alarm and the radio blared to life, intensifying the cracked-skull ache creeping across his scalp. He yanked the cord out of the wall. This morning he would need coffee with his coffee.
Knock, knock, knock.
Someone banging on his door at this hour could not have good news. He scrambled up and banged his knee on the heavy oak wood coffee table. After ten seconds of hopping and cursing, he limped to the door of his cabin and opened it.
"This better be—" Tabor blinked. Witchling Protectress Helen Montrose stood on the porch. On either side of her were two little girls who clung to her hands as if she were the only buoy in a raging sea.
“Hi, Tabor,” said Helen. “We need your help.”
Chapter Four
Tabor stepped aside and allowed the children and Helen into the cabin. He ushered them into the front area, removing the blanket from the leather couch to make room for the girls. Twins. They looked they were about five years old. They stared up at him, silent, their big green eyes wide with exhaustion and terror.
“Y’all like cartoons?”
They looked at each other, and the sweetheart on the left said, “Yes, sir.”
He aimed the remote at the big-screen television and chose the 24-hour cartoon channel. “You want something drink? Are you hungry?”
Once again the girls looked at each other, and the same girl said, “No, thank you, sir.”
“I’m Tabor,” he said. “I don’t mind at all if you just want to use my name.”
They nodded, and they settled onto the couch and stared joylessly at the cartoons. Poor babies, he thought. Somebody’s sucked the happiness right out of them.
He led Helen beyond the living area to the kitchen. It was a bountiful space with granite countertops, stainless steel appliances, and a butcher-block island. The oblong window above the copper farmer’s sink looked out onto his garden, and beyond that, the Piney Woods. He leaned against the counter and asked, “Are you okay?”
“We got away clean.”
As the Texas Witching Protectress, Helen was in charge of investigating witchling abuse and neglect claims in the state. The job was not one for the faint of heart, and Tabor knew she’d charge hell with a bucket of ice water if it meant saving a child. However, when the endangered witchlings in question could not be removed through proper channels and Helen felt they were in imminent danger, she relied on other means to secure their safety. Given the expression on her face and the fatigue making her shoulders slump, he knew she was putting the girls into what equaled an unofficial witness protection program. “Who are they, Helen?”
“Eden and Erin. I rescued them in Dallas. Yours was the first place I thought of, Tabor. You can protect the twins while I make arrangements for them to disappear.”
This cabin had been a stop on the underground ever since he was a kid. His parents would host witches, warlocks, and Shifters who needed to escape from their abusers and potential killers. “What happened to them?” he asked softly.
“Their father is channeling their power to supplement his own.” Warlocks notoriously lacked the same kind of magic as their female counterparts. “Without training, they don’t know how to protect themselves. The power drain is affecting their health and their magical abilities.” Helen’s eyes gleamed with fury. “Their mother died in childbirth. Dad’s a well-connected, wealthy asshole.” She grimaced. “Did I mention he was an asshole?”
Tabor rubbed his jaw. “Warlock, huh? Have you reported anything to Baba Yaga? She could scare scorpions back into their holes.”
“After I’ve gotten the girls away, I’ll report Asshole Dad for siphoning magic. He’s probably up to his eyeballs in all kinds of black arts, personal gain spells, and abuse of Mother Earth.” She sighed. “I can’t risk Eden and Erin’s safety right now. Unfortunately, their father has connections up the wazoo and I fear members of the council might owe him favors.”
“The council?”
“Made up of witches and warlocks. They’re scary as hell. And they aren’t above torture as a means to an end.”
Huh. Tabor hadn’t heard of a magic council. But then again, he hadn’t heard of Shifter Wankers or Dorcas Hoars before yesterday, either. And Baba Yaga he’d only known by reputation.
Tabor felt a tug on his blue sweats. He looked down at the little girl standing next to him. Instinctually he knew that this was Erin. "Are you really a bear?" she asked in a tiny, sweet voice.
Tabor squatted down so he was eye-level. “Yes. I can shift into a bear.”
She seemed pleased by his admission. “Good.”
"She thinks you can protect us from our father," intoned Eden. Tabor switched his gaze to the other girl who now stood near the couch. Her expression was so serious and her eyes so devoid of emotion that his chest felt hollow.
“He’s mean,” said the urchin clinging to him. She leaned forward and whispered, “He hurts us.”
Tabor felt his heart constrict in his chest. “It’s okay, honey,” he said. “He won’t hurt you ever again.” He stroked her hair. “Why don’t you go watch TV with your sister?”
She nodded and rejoined Eden. The twins scooted onto the couch. He watched Eden put her arm around her sister and bring her in close—a protective gesture. What kind of cold-hearted bastard thought of his children as magical batteries? He wanted to go Shifter and rip the guy to shreds.
Tabor drew Helen further into the kitchen. “I have a ... uh, guest. She’s a witch from West Virginia who’s thinking about moving to Wild.” Somewhat true. If Grace mated with him then she would move to Wild. Probably. Anyway, he had to tell Helen something. She didn’t know about the Great Ash so he couldn’t reveal Grace’s true purpose.
Helen’s eyebrows rose and her expression said: Booty call? Really? “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t urgent, Tabor. I know you can protect the girls.”
He ran his fingers through his hair. He needed caffeine to stimulate his brain cells. Taking care of two adorable little girls had not been on the menu this week. He had a one-bedroom cabin and Grace already had his bed. Where the heck was he going to put witchlings? “I’m not saying no,” he said carefully. “How long do you need?”
“Two, maybe three, days to get them new identities and passage through the underground.”
“Okay,” Tabor said, “I’ll make it work.”
GRACE STOOD ON THE last step of the back staircase, and shamelessly listened to the hushed conversation between Tabor and the witch named Helen.
Saves orphans and melts the hearts of single witches everywhere. That one has a total god complex.
“Knock it off.” Grace glared at Dorcas. She remembered too well what it had been like in the orphanage. She’d never gotten fostered or adopted. It wasn’t an unpleasant childhood—and was probably better than what she would’ve gotten from her mother—but it was definitely not the same as growing up with a loving family. Witches and warlocks would come and go—nurses, teache
rs, headmistresses, cooks, coaches, and everyone else. No one stayed forever. The witches and warlocks who saw her off into her adult life were not the same ones who’d taken her in at the age of nine.
Your bear in furry armor is leaving with his lady friend.
“Stay here,” said Grace. “Please, Dorcas. Those little girls must be scared out of their wits.”
Dorcas rolled her eyes. Fine. I’ll stay here.
After Tabor had walked Helen out the front door, Grace left the stairs and went through the kitchen. She ventured into the living room and rounded the couch, staying about a foot away.
“Hello,” she said to the twins. “My name is Grace Hobbs. But you can call me Grace if you like.”
“Hi. I’m Eden. This is Erin.” The young girl studied her. Eden’s hair was a shade darker blonde than her sister’s. And Erin had an adorable dimple on the left side of her mouth. These girls were creator witches, just like she was.
“You’re pretty,” they said together.
“Thank you,” said Grace, inordinately pleased with the compliment. Witches, in general, were attractive. It was pure genetics. But when a witch had a Dorcas hanging over her shoulder pummeling her self-esteem every day, even the prettiest of witches could get a complex. “You and your sister are very pretty, too.”
“Thank you, Grace.” Once again, the girls spoke in one voice.
She stepped a little closer. She wanted to hug the bad right out of them, but forcing her affection would probably be more detrimental than good for the twins. She imagined they had serious trust issues when it came to adults.
“Are you the bear Shifter’s wife?” asked Erin.
“Um, no. I’m his—.” What was she exactly? They hadn’t known each other long enough to be friends. “His colleague,” she finally said. It felt inadequate, but it would have to do.
Both the girls looked at her, their expressions this side of suspicious.
“Is a colleague like a boyfriend?” asked Eden.
Before she could respond to that question, Tabor re-entered the house. He looked surprised to see Grace standing in front of the girls, but he recovered quickly. “Grace. I see you’ve met our new guests.”
Tabor was bare-footed. His hair was messed up from sleep. He wore blue sweat pants, and that was it. His broad, muscled chest was the size of Texas. Six-pack? Sweet baby Goddess. Try twelve-pack. His chest and stomach were lightly furred, and the brown curls arrowed down into the sweats. She was dying to have a peek inside.
“She likes your boobs,” said Erin matter-of-factly.
Grace felt her face go hot.
Tabor grinned. “Oh, yeah? How do you know?”
“Because she keeps staring at them,” pointed out Eden. “Do you like her boobs?”
“I haven’t seen her boobs,” said Tabor. He flinched as the words exited his mouth.
Grace flinched too. This conversation was verging on humiliating.
Erin waved at her. “Fair’s fair. You should let him see yours.”
Dorcas appeared next to her guffawing so hard she bent over at the waist and gasped for air. Why did she insist on going through actions like she was still a human?
Yeah, Grace, show Mr. Bear your boobies.
Eden and Erin stared to the left of Grace, right where Dorcas was laughing her ass off.
“Hello,” they said together. “Who are you?”
Grace shared an amazed look with Tabor. Even Dorcas was shocked into silence.
“You can see the lady?” asked Grace.
“She’s not alive,” said Erin.
“That’s right,” said Grace. “She’s a ghost.”
Eden stared at Dorcas. “Why are you naked?”
Grace looked at the spirit. Yep. The witch was buck-assed naked.
What the hell is going on? Dorcas looked astonished. I didn’t take off my clothes, I swear.
“Why do your boobs hang down that far?” asked Erin.
“Your skin is so wrinkly. Your knees look like an elephant’s,” said Eden.
The twins took turns asking rapid-fire questions and making blunt comments. Grace’s wide smile turned into peals of unstoppable laughter.
“Why is does your face look like its sliding off?”
“Your hair looks funny. Didn’t you brush it today?”
“What’s that patch of hair between your legs?
Grace laughed so hard she snorted. “Oh, Goddess.” She grabbed her sides. “That hurts.”
“Is it a bunch of spiders?”
“It looks like a bunch of squished spiders.”
Grace choked on her spit.
Apparently, Dorcas was so stupefied at first that she forgot she was a ghost. Then she snapped out of it, gave Grace the finger, and popped out of the room. She didn’t even bother with a parting sarcastic jibe.
Grace wiped her eyes. “Oh, my Goddess. I haven’t laughed like that since ... well, 1966.”
“You should laugh more often,” said Tabor. “It’s a beautiful sound.” At some point, he had crossed the room and now stood next to her. The fresh-cut grass and fresh-dirt smell wafted around her. What was it about this man that made her want to throw herself into his arms and yell, “Take me!”
She met his gaze, and her pulsed jumped. Something had changed. She wasn’t quite sure what, but the look Tabor was giving her bordered on lascivious. Her heart started to pound.
Tabor grinned. “So how naked was poor ol’ Dorcas?”
Chapter Five
“Very naked,” said Eden and Erin together.
Tabor’s expression turned mock serious. “Will the girls need counseling?”
Grace tried to mimic his all-business countenance, but failed. Her smile turned into a laugh. “They won’t,” she said, “but Dorcas will.”
The way he looked at her made her belly flutter. She had this feeling he wanted to embrace her. Maybe even kiss her. Yes, please.
“I don’t have another bed for the girls, Grace. I can take the floor if you want the couch.” He turned toward the twins. “I’ve got a huge bed upstairs. It’s like sleeping on a cloud. How does that sound?”
Eden and Erin shared a look and then Eden reluctantly nodded. Both girls had a forlorn expression edged with fear. Grace figured they didn’t want to crawl into a strange bed in a strange house. She knew from experience how awful it was to be utterly alone with people you didn’t know—dropped off there by a person who no longer wanted you. In their case, they were escaping from the person who was supposed to love them. Only five-years-old and they already experienced too much suffering.
“Well, who wants to sleep in a plain ol’ bed?” asked Grace. “We should make a couch and blanket fort and sleep inside it.”
The girls’ eyes widened.
“You can do that?” asked Erin. Her voice was pure wonder.
“Won’t it mess up the living room?” Eden bit her lower lip, obviously concerned.
“Yep,” said Tabor, jumping on board the idea. “But living rooms can’t be tidy all the time. So, I’m obligated to officially mess it up. You want to help?”
The girls clapped, excited, and for the first time since they arrived, Eden and Erin smiled.
Grace’s heart turned over in her chest. I’ll protect you, she promised them. She looked as Tabor tossed off pillows and cushions, laughing when the twins joined in. The deep rumble sounded like happy thunder. He met her eyes, just for a second, and her insides melted into a puddle. And so will he, Grace thought.
“You can’t make a fort without me,” Liz said as she waddled into the living room. She went to the girls. “Everyone knows you need a lizard to make any kind of fort.”
“I didn’t know that,” said Erin.
Liz winked. “Well, you do now, mate.”
The sisters knelt in front of Grace’s familiar and stroked her head and back. Liz closed her eyes and emitted a low trill of satisfaction. “Under the chin a bit, please.”
Eden complied.
Liz opene
d her eyes and stared at the black Mary Janes. She licked all four them, no doubt marking the patent leather shoes for later snackage.
“Don’t even think about it, Liz. There’s nobody in a thousand miles to fix you if you make yourself sick again.
“I can’t help it,” said Liz. “Mary Janes are my favorite.”
GRACE AWOKE TO THE sound of hushed voices. After making the couch fort with its blanket ceiling, they’d all crawled under it. Grace told the girls stories until they fell asleep. She must have passed out with them.
She smiled. Neither Tabor nor Liz had lasted through the first bedtime tale, and their competing snores made the girls giggle. Hmm. Since the Shifter was no longer in the makeshift tent, he could only assume he was one of the voices.
Somehow, she’d ended up with a girl on either side of her, both hugging her as they slept. Tabor had given them two of his shirts for sleepwear. They were swallowed up by the material, which covered their feet and dragged across the floor. She couldn’t help herself. She hugged them lightly. Sweet Goddess. She felt the warm fuzzies hardcore. How could anyone hurt them? How could a father trade the love of his daughters for their powers? Asshole.
“G’day,” said Liz as she poked her head underneath the blanket. “You getting up?”
“Yes,” whispered Grace. She slowly extracted herself from the tiny arms and legs and scooted toward her familiar. The girls rolled toward each other and lay on the pillow, shoulder-to-shoulder, still sleeping, thank the Goddess. Liz backed up as Grace crawled out.
Huh. Someone was noticeably absent. It was the first day in half a century that Grace had awakened without Dorcas hovering above her, singing some obnoxious song like “99 Bottles of Beer.” She was surprised to realize she was concerned. When did I start caring about that crazy witch?
“Have you seen Dorcas?”
Amazing Grace Page 3