Impassion

by B. C. Burgess

  “Okay. You get my coffee, and I’ll brainstorm while I make my sign. Should I hang it on the front door so everyone knows the rule before they come in?”

  He laughed as he wrapped his hands around her waist, lifting her with him as he stood. Then he took her hand and led her downstairs. “That might get their attention, but what if we paint it on the outside of the house? Or we could hang a sign over the stairs, like a place of business.”

  “Interesting, but we need something that will ensure nobody misses it.”

  “Of course,” he mumbled, putting some serious thought into it. “How about neon?”

  “Excellent,” she commended. “That will burn the rule right on their eyelids. Very clever.”

  She halted at her bedroom door and turned into him, touching her lips to his heart for five fantastic beats.

  “I need to use the bathroom,” she said, hovering to his jaw. Then she kissed twice before floating away.

  Quin reached up, touching his tingling face. Then he backtracked to the other bathroom, determined not to waste one second of his time with her.

  Chapter 21

  THE MASTER-BATH FAUCET CAME ON as Quin headed for the kitchen, so he thought he had plenty of time to get Layla’s coffee ready, but his intentions were halted when Caitrin’s mental voice resounded in his head.

  “Damn,” Quin whispered, glancing toward the bedroom.

  He blocked Caitrin from his head then walked to the foyer, his jaw achingly tight as he opened the front door.

  Shoulders squared, Finley stood on the threshold, his aura nowhere to be found.

  Quin glanced past him, throwing a reproving look at Caitrin, who glared back, clearly displeased as he paced near the entrance to Layla’s garden. Ten more family members hovered nearby, their eyes trained on the visitor.

  “Wondering why your guard dogs let me in?” Finley asked.

  Quin heard the bedroom door open and took a calming breath. “Layla?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You have a visitor.”

  “Oh yeah? Who?”

  Quin forced himself not to spit the name. “Finley.”

  “Who?” she repeated, rounding the corner, and Quin stepped aside, revealing her guest.

  Layla halted, her aura retracting as she stared at Finley in shock. She couldn’t believe the coven let him in. “How did you find me?”

  “Actually,” he answered, lazily pointing a thumb at Quin, “I had to find him. No one seems to know a thing about you.”

  Quin’s muscles twitched, but he stayed silent, staring at the visitor so coldly Layla half-expected Finley to freeze.

  Finley seemed unaffected, though, and disregarded Quin with a sniff. “Are you under house arrest, Layla? You have a lot of people keeping a close eye on you.”

  “I like it that way,” she blurted. Then she paused, thinking the response odd.

  Quin flipped his gaze to her face then closed the distance between them. “I’m going to go make your coffee,” he whispered, taking her cheeks in soothing palms. He gave her a hard kiss, followed by a soft one. Then he left the room.

  Layla watched him go, a smirk twitching her tingling lips. Then she sobered and looked at Finley.

  He was casually leaning against the doorjamb, watching her with an unreadable expression. “Is Quin your boyfriend?”

  Layla fidgeted with headrest of the sofa as she glanced over her shoulder, unsure about the boyfriend label. “You could say we’re involved.”

  “In what?” Finley pressed.

  She scowled, mad he was making her put a title on it. “In a relationship, one that goes beyond our family ties.”

  “A relationship, huh? You didn’t mention that yesterday.”

  “It’s really none of your business. I don’t know you.”

  “I guess you don’t.”

  For several seconds he silently stood there, just staring at her face, so Layla urged the visit along. She wanted her coffee and the man making it. “Is there a reason why you’re here, Finley?”

  He cleared his throat and straightened from the doorjamb. “I stopped by to make sure you made it home okay.”

  “Oh. That was nice of you. Thank you.”

  He gave a polite nod, but didn’t reply.

  “Is there another reason why you’re here?” she asked, shifting under his intense gaze.

  “Yes,” he answered, glancing behind him. “I’d like to take you out sometime, to another gathering. You know, meet the people? I’ve been making the rounds myself and thought you’d like to join me, maybe stay long enough to enjoy yourself.”

  “Oh,” she breathed, shocked by his gall.

  “There’s a party this weekend,” he went on. “You should give me your number so I can call with the details.”

  “Um…” she mumbled, unlearned in the ways of turning down assertive men. “I don’t know you well enough to give you my number. Sorry.”

  “I thought you might say that, so I brought mine.” He leaned the top half of his body inside, floating a folded piece of paper to the table holding the phone. “Unlike most magicians, I have no objection to carrying a cell phone, so you can catch me anytime. If you ever feel like spending an evening outside your community, I’ll be happy to oblige.” After another nod and a smile, he stepped back. “See you later, Layla.”

  He turned away, but he didn’t walk onto the lawn. He shot straight off the porch.

  Several coven members soared after him, and Layla’s grandparents headed for her door.

  Layla sighed as she watched their approach; she’d been neglecting them, but there was something she needed to do before giving them her attention.

  She rushed across the room, pushing open the swinging door to the kitchen, and the next thing she knew, she was in Quin’s arms, her lips and tongue merged with his.

  “That was wonderful,” she breathed, grinning as she gathered her wits.

  “You’re wonderful,” he countered, lowering her feet to the floor. Then he summoned her coffee and kissed her head. “For you, Layla Love.”

  She mentally recorded the simple experience of him handing her coffee. Then she sipped and sighed. “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure. Your grandparents are here.”

  “I know.”

  She stood on her toes for a kiss, and he swept his fingertips across her cheek as he leaned in. Tingles slipped from his touch, and she giggled into his mouth as she pushed him away. “You’re doing that on purpose,” she accused.

  “Doing what?” he laughed.

  She pointed toward the living room, unable to stifle her humor as she yelled at him in a whisper. “Getting me all worked up before sending me to my grandparents.”

  “By touching your cheek? If you think that’s how I work a woman up, we have matters to attend to.” He flashed ornery dimples as he leaned over and wrapped his arms around her hips, like he was going to throw her over his shoulder.

  “No,” she laughed, pushing on his back. “Shoo.”

  He nuzzled her side and squeezed her thighs. Then he straightened and stepped away. “Go, before I change my mind.”

  “I’m going,” she assured, holding up a hand as she backed out of the kitchen.

  Her grandparents stood in the entryway, looking concerned, so Layla took a quick sip of coffee then set the mug aside. “Hey,” she greeted, passing out hugs. “Sorry about the unexpected visitor.”

  They were glad to get their hugs, but they didn’t reply or relax.

  Quin walked from the kitchen, and all eyes shot to him. He halted mid-stride as he scanned his critical audience. Then he bowed his head.

  “What’s going on?” Layla asked.

  “Release your aura,” Quin suggested.

  “Oh,” she mumbled, glancing down at herself. Then her eyes widened as she looked at Quin. Her grandparents were upset with him because of her!

  She quickly released her aura as she mouthed the words I’m sorry. Then she turned to her grandparents, who sighed as t
hey examined the air around her.

  Caitrin threw Quin a warning glance. Then he and Serafin sat on the coffee table while Layla’s grandmothers ushered her to the couch. The four of them leaned close, seemingly excluding Quin, who took a seat in the corner next to the phone. Layla’s stomach squirmed as she met his stare, but he quickly soothed her worries with a smile and a wink.

  “You look happy,” Caitrin noted, squeezing her knee. “We like seeing you that way.”

  Layla started to mutter an apology for her recent attitude, but Caitrin didn’t give her a chance.

  “What do you know about Finley?” he asked, looking at Quin, whose expression hardened as he answered.

  “Enough to know I don’t trust him.”

  “You have to give us more than that,” Serafin pressed.

  “He’s nomadic,” Quin added, “and he constantly hides his aura.”

  “How do you know?” Layla asked.

  “I made some phone calls today,” he answered. “Not to intrude on your business, but to find out who Finley is.”

  “I get why you did it,” she mumbled, embarrassed he had to take care of her, but touched he was doing such a good job. “It’s fine.”

  “It was a waste of time. Out of everyone who’s met him, including the magicians you were with last night, no one knows where he’s from or where he’s been, and no one has ever seen his aura fully exposed.”

  “That is worrisome,” Caitrin agreed, turning back to Layla. “You met this guy yesterday?”

  Still ashamed of her immature departure, Layla’s face flushed with heat. “Yes, on the beach. He walked up and introduced himself.”

  “Were there any other magicians around when he showed up?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Did he have an excuse for being there?”

  “He was meeting some friends on a different part of the beach.”

  “Did you see his aura?” Daleen asked.

  “No,” Layla confessed, dropping her gaze, “but I didn’t think much of it. I didn’t know hiding auras was such a big deal.”

  “It’s unusual,” Serafin explained. “For one thing, it’s difficult to do. Furthermore, magicians who have always lived with their auras aren’t ashamed of them unless they have something to hide.”

  “Oh,” Layla whispered, wondering why hiding her aura came so naturally. “So you guys think Finley’s trouble?”

  “We don’t want to jump to conclusions,” Serafin answered, “but his secrecy arouses suspicions. Your unique status makes you desirable to a variety of magicians with selfish agendas, so we must assume Finley’s untrustworthy until he can prove otherwise.”

  Caitrin glanced at Quin, who shook his head no.

  “Did Finley see your aura?” Caitrin asked, turning back to Layla.

  “When he first walked up,” she answered. Then she pointed between him and Quin. “What was that about? I know you guys talk in your heads, but it’s aggravating when I’m sitting here watching you.”

  “Of course it is,” Morrigan agreed, scowling at her husband. “That was rude.”

  “Yes it was,” Caitrin conceded. “I’m sorry, Layla.”

  “It’s fine, but you could fill me in.”

  “Sure.” He bowed his head then looked back up. “We’ve ascertained that more than one wizard has asked questions about you in Oklahoma.”

  “What?” she exclaimed, looking at Quin. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “My focus has been elsewhere.”

  “Why didn’t you guys call and tell me?” she asked, scanning her grandparents.

  “Your phone’s turned off,” Quin explained, motioning to the table.

  “Oh yeah,” she breathed. “I forgot. Will you turn it back on for me?”

  Quin reached over, jaw flexing as his tense thumb flipped a switch on her phone, and she could tell he wanted to burst Finley’s number into flames.

  Making a mental note to get rid of the digits later, she looked at Caitrin. “So what’s going on?”

  “I finally got in touch with the coven near Broken Bow,” he answered. “As it turns out, they already knew about you.”

  “What? How?”

  “Two of their witches ate at the diner in Gander Creek a few years back. You were their waitress.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, they remember you very well and were able to correctly describe your features.”

  “Weird,” Layla mumbled. “And a little unsettling.”

  “Yes,” Caitrin agreed. “About three weeks ago, an unknown wizard in obvious disguise showed up at their coven, asking questions pertaining to you. Then, nearly two weeks ago, a wizard matching the description of your lawyer’s visitor dropped in, asking the exact same questions.”

  “Is my lawyer in danger?”

  “Not likely. It seems whoever’s prying into your business has left Oklahoma altogether.”

  “Do you think it’s the Unforgivables?”

  “We don’t know.”

  Layla swallowed, reminding herself to breathe. “But… wouldn’t they have had plenty of time to get here?”

  “Yes, but there’s a good chance they’ll follow Katherine’s trail along the way, perhaps stopping by Ketchum, Idaho. They might think you’re staying with her family, and the hexless are easier to deal with than we are. But once they realize Katherine’s family passed away long ago, they’ll head this way.”

  “I see,” Layla mumbled, staring at her lap. The danger was very real now. “What are the chances these wizards mean no harm?”

  “Slim,” Caitrin answered. “We can’t imagine a good reason for someone outside of our family to be looking for you.”

  “Maybe they just want to see what I look like or something.”

  “You’re not a zoo exhibit,” Quin objected. “Anyone who thinks otherwise is unwelcome on our lawn.”

  “Furthermore,” Caitrin added, “now that we know a wizard was near Gander Creek the night of the fires, we would be fools to assume they were accidents. We’ve spoken to the local fire chief, who had multiple specialists assess the diner and your house, yet they remain mystified. Both fires burned in similar and peculiar ways that make no sense to them, but tell us everything.”

  “So there’s nothing we can do but wait for them to show up?” Layla asked, fighting the urge to bite a newly repaired fingernail.

  “Unfortunately,” Caitrin answered. “Unless we gather new information before they get here.”

  “When might that be?”

  “Anytime.”

  Layla’s stomach rolled as she looked at the front door. “I’ll be back,” she mumbled, grabbing her coffee as she stood.

  She entered the kitchen and went through the motions of topping off her coffee, but she was really trying to settle her nauseous gut and strengthen her weak knees. She sat at the table and rubbed her stinging eyes, repeating her appeal over and over again. Please don’t let it be the Unforgivables, please don’t let it be the Unforgivables…

  After wearing out the mantra, she stood and returned to the living room, finding her grandparents near the front door. “Where are you going?” she demanded.

  “Home,” Morrigan answered, moving in for a hug.

  Layla squeezed her grandmother’s waist, hesitant to let go. “What are you going to do if Agro shows up?”

  “Don’t worry about that,” Quin insisted, still seated in the corner.

  Layla shot him a reproachful look. “Are you worried about it?”

  “Yes,” he answered, bowing his head.

  “Then don’t lecture me,” she countered.

  He didn’t respond, so she turned to Caitrin. “I’d like to know what you plan to do.”

  Caitrin stepped forward and wrapped her in a hug. “If it’s Agro who shows up, nearly everyone will stay out of sight. I’ll speak with him, along with Quinlan’s great grandpa Catigern.”

  “Just the two of you?”

  “Two of the strongest and wisest magicia
ns here.”

  “They’ll kill you,” she objected, further worked up by his nonchalance.

  “What makes you think so?” he asked. “We’ve covered our tracks well over the years, appearing blind to your existence. If Agro shows up, we’ll act shocked by the news you’re alive, and we’ll act convincingly. He’ll have no reason to kill us, and since we’re his only link to you, he won’t want to kill us.”

  “It’s too risky. I don’t like it.”

  “It’s the safest solution,” Serafin noted.

  “And what will I be doing,” she asked, “while you guys are out there risking your lives?”

  “You’ll leave as soon as danger approaches,” Caitrin firmly answered. “If you’re with Quinlan, don’t waste time worrying about us, just go. If he’s not around, Serafin and Daleen will take you.”

  “Take me where?”

  “Anywhere but here.”

  Layla turned away from everyone, hiding moist eyes and flexed features. “Should I leave now? Stay somewhere else for a while? Surely that would increase the coven’s safety.”

  “It would increase your own,” Serafin answered.

  Layla started to say she didn’t care about her own safety and was tired of sacrificing relatives to Agro, but she knew it would get Quin riled up, so she kept her mouth shut.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Quin said, getting to his feet.

  Layla flipped her gaze around, mad at first. Then she realized she had nothing to be mad about. “And?”

  “And I don’t like it.”

  She sighed and looked at her coffee. “I don’t want you guys getting hurt.”

  “Of course you don’t, and we’ll do everything we can to keep that from happening. But you’re included in the deal, and it’s your life at risk.”

  “I get it, Quin. It just seems like I should be doing something.” She took a deep breath and turned toward her grandparents, still struggling with tears. “Will you let me know if there’s something I can do to help? If I’m included in the deal, I should do my part to make things better. If that means leaving, I’ll go.”

  “You’ll stay,” Caitrin refused, “and our family will be stronger for it. When your help is needed, we’ll ask for it.”