He flicked a gaze in her direction. Until he saw the fire witch’s painting he didn’t have any evidence to back up what Harry babbled about, but it was all there: the cursed water witch’s snow, the fire witch’s painting, and the earth witch’s damned piano. That left one element though he had yet to see: wind.
“Yeah. I didn’t think none of it was true until I saw the painting.” His voice grew thoughtful.
“Didn’t we mess up everything when you took the piano away?”
If only magic were so simple. “In most cases yes, but if he determined the source of power in the instrument and plucked away a sizable piece—we didn’t accomplish a damn thing.”
His head slumped forward a bit with fatigue.
“How did you get hurt?” So she tossed the ball back in his court now with a personal question.
He briefly stretched, holding his side. The ache wasn’t going away. “During a rescue mission I made a mistake a soldier should never make.”
A long pause. “And what’s that?”
“I stopped listening for danger. I became complacent in my abilities. Mostly the magical ones.”
“I thought you were good at what you do.”
“I am, but sometimes even good people make mistakes and get comfortable. After getting hurt, I told myself I’d be more careful and less reckless. I’d run once in a while if I had to protect others.” He winced again—the pain turned into a persistent stab every time he inhaled. Damn, he should’ve let that wizard work his magic on him.
“You need to change your dressing. Do you need help?”
“I’m holding out just fine.” He’d pushed himself way too far. Every damn word he spoke hurt like hell.
“Can the tough guy routine.” On her knees, she crawled toward his satchel and opened the flap. “Harabeuji, do you have a first aid kit in this bag of tricks?” She peered inside, then turned to him. “Is there a spell or something to trigger the hidden compartments?”
“It tickles when she checks my pockets,” Harabeuji chuckled. “She has soft hands.”
“I think he just said something.” Tessa glanced up. “What did he say?”
“Nothing important.” If Tessa ever learned Korean, Rob might have a problem on his hands. He swept his fingers across the Korean letters on the inner fold. The magic hiding the deep pockets disappeared.
“Behave,” he said in Korean to Harabeuji.
“Now we’re cooking!” Tessa said with a grin. “You could’ve packed a four course dinner in one of these.”
“I didn’t…plan on being trapped in...Limbo.” He shifted uncomfortably.
“Be quiet while I look,” she shushed.
Eventually, Tessa pulled out a white plastic container with the first aid symbol. She fished out a roll of gauze with scissors. Then she set about the task of changing his dressings.
“Can you point to where I should cut it first?” Tessa looked over the folds of gauze, a look of puzzlement over her face. Perhaps he should supervise?
She picked a spot and started to cut the old dressings.
“Be careful with those scissors,” he growled.
“I’m doing my best. How the hell do you do this yourself?”
“I don’t hold scissors like that....Ouch! Give me those things.” He grasped the handle. “Where did you learn first aid?”
“Here and there. Kind of through observation on the lacrosse field sidelines.”
He cut into the dressings. “You played lacrosse? I can’t see you running over people.”
“I didn’t try out for the team willingly. Danielle won a bet and I was forced to try out. The coach thought I was good enough to play as an attackman on the team.”
As he removed the bindings to free his ribs, the pain became hard to bear. He tried to control his breathing but it didn’t help much. “I can’t imagine you...”
She placed her index finger on his lips. “Don’t talk.”
She gently took the gauze and started wrapping the material around his waist. The close proximity to her body was unnerving—even through the pain. He tried to think of her as a nurse instead of a former lover. This was rather difficult in their current position. The bindings she made had to be tight, but not too tight to cause pain and prevent breathing.
Once she finished binding him, she found the clips and tape to hold it in place.
By the time they completed the task, he wanted to pass out. Waves of never-ending pain coursed through him. He closed his eyes and focused. Breathe in deep through the nose and out through the mouth.
Within the haze, someone offered him some pills. He swallowed them with gusto.
“Are you all right?” A warm hand touched his shoulder. He wanted to lean toward her, but stopped himself.
“I need a few minutes to rest,” he murmured. “Then I can help with the binding with a spell.”
Gentle hands grabbed under his shoulders and urged him to lie down. Every inch he moved made the ache worsen, but eventually, he managed to rest. What had she given him besides a painkiller? Sleep pulled relentlessly at him. A palm touched his cheek. The fingertips brushed against his hairline in featherlike strokes. He kept his eyes closed and his body relaxed further.
But his mind fought to stay awake. As his consciousness faded away, he heard footsteps walking away. The heat from Tessa left with it. He was too tired to go after her. Too tired to tell her not to look for her scroll.
Damn, stubborn woman.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Dating Tip #11: Show confidence and leave the skeletons, both summoned and metaphorical, in the closet. Women don’t want to hear about your failed escapades or 1,001 nights of passion with past liaisons.
Limbo’s wide expanse beckoned Tessa with a rolling prairie of junk. For a few minutes, she memorized the distinct objects around them to use as a place marker for later. Large green urn, bright red staff standing up, immense mound of books with blue covers... Once she filled her mind to the brim, she called the wand to her hand. The bristly stick barely registered as weight in her palm.
She imagined her vehicle with the scroll inside. Could the wand take her there? Instead of teleporting her to her destination, the wand drew her forward. Like a wandering water stick, the wand pulled her along over the wasteland. Once in a while, faint slurping noises ended the silence. Someone opened a portal and tossed in repossessed property. They were so far away. A spark of light followed by a moving speck.
Her stomach grumbled after a mile or two. Could the wand create food? Did she dare try it? She tapped her hand with the wand while imagining some chocolate cake.
Why not go for the good stuff on the first try?
The wand twitched, then slapped a gob of wet mud in her palm.
“Eww.” There went that idea. She used the end to scrape the top layers off. They landed with a soggy plop onto an expensive looking tea service set. She stared at the gleaming white teakettle, horrified that she’d marred its smooth surface. The reflection looking back was full of warts and green splotches.
Don’t touch anything! she could practically hear Rob snap.
She pulled back, checking her skin. She was free from any blemishes; the flaws were only seen through the tainted magic in the teakettle.
Her left hand was still covered in mud. Sadly, she didn’t expect to see an enchanted roll of paper towels or box of wipes, but she did look around for a few minutes. She wanted to wipe her hand off on a torn cape nearby, but she’d learned her lesson. Best to leave it be. Might be as cursed as the china set. This place was so off the wall. The whole thing resembled a magical yard sale after a hurricane plowed through.
Stuck with a soiled hand, she used the wand again to find her scroll. She didn’t see an end to the horizon, only hills with a pink sky overhead.
She needed to make some progress before Rob woke up and found her gone. She willed the wand to move faster. The pull turned into dragging. The twig yanked her forward with rough jerks. Ouch! She gripped the end tightly, h
oping it wouldn’t shove her into something sharp or jagged.
Tessa climbed over one mound that continued to go up and up. Her lungs ached with each step. It didn’t help that her perch was precarious to begin with as she climbed over books and even an old iron bedpost. Once she reached the summit, she wanted to breathe a sigh of relief—until at the crest it pulled her forward—toward a sheer cliff into darkness. She tried to turn back, willing the wand to stop. It relentlessly tugged her toward the looming expanse. On the far side, mounds began again. Objects on the far edge would shift slightly, then the heaviest item would roll down a pile into the foggy depths of the chasm.
Damn it all to hell.
To keep herself from falling over the edge, she held on for dear life as the wand continued to float over the edge. “Stop! Damn it!”
The wand stopped in mid-air. With legs flailing, she tried to swing back.
Don’t look down! Don’t look down!
“Reverse! Reverse!” she screeched.
The first jolt backward made her unstable grip loosen, but she managed to hang tight while the wand returned to the edge. Finally, her feet found solid ground. The wand continued its progression backwards—back the other way toward the edge of the hill.
She tried to release the troublemaking twig, but it stuck to her hand. “Let go!” The wand let her go, but it was too late. Tessa plunged down the hill which she’d climbed not much earlier. During her painful descent, she emitted every curse she knew. Maybe a few she heard Rob use as well. This was between grunts and screams of pain. On the way down she hit two staffs (ouch!), broke a vase (her back!), and finally came to rest by hitting the side of her face against another tea set. (Revenge from the previous pot she’d soiled earlier with mud.)
Tessa rested for a moment, waiting for her heart to slow its rapid beating. The jabs into her back ached. She stared up the hill, wondering why pieces of it were coming at her. The avalanche started with a few smaller stuff, but she couldn’t shake the deer-in-headlights feeling as more junk approached. She closed her eyes as another body covered hers.
Something shifted above them. She had a small pocket of air tucked in the safety of Rob’s arms. From her position underneath him, she didn’t know if he had air to breathe.
“Rob?”
The weight continued to roll off them. Bit by bit. Hands pulled Rob off her. In a haze, she saw the concerned faces of people she didn’t know. Three men took Rob out of the hole, while a woman and man freed her legs. All of them were warlocks.
One of them stood out from the others. He was short, with white hair, and grumbled about how his day had been ruined rescuing his employee.
“Are you bleeding?” one of the men asked her.
“No, it’s Rob. Someone check him for injuries,” Clive said.
There was blood on her? “Rob?” she croaked.
When she tried to see Rob, a warlock pushed her down. “Stay still.”
From her angle, she watched three warlocks assess Rob. One of them stepped away to allow the other two to work. She glimpsed a wand protruding from Rob’s shoulder. Didn’t she release it before falling down the hill? She flexed her empty hands. He’d saved her and in the process the wand in her hands stabbed him as he covered her body with his own.
“He’s breathing, Tessa. Stay calm, we’re getting you two out of here.” With ease, one of warlocks lifted her.
“How did you find us?” she asked Clive as they headed for a nearby open portal.
“You two nitwits have been missing for three days. While you were gone, one of my competitors spotted you two lumbering around in Limbo. All the repo men in NYC coordinated an effort to find you…”
Three days?
They crossed the threshold into a subway restroom. She peered back into Limbo where Rob and her scroll remained. Thank goodness at least Rob would be returning with her.
Two days later, with aches and bruises, Tessa ventured to Rob’s house to check on him. His aunt answered the door and greeted her with a brief hug.
“He’s upstairs,” Matilda said softly. “I left him some hot tea a few minutes ago.”
With effort, she climbed the stairs. She knocked gently on his door while prying it open. He sat against the headboard, bare-chested with hair tousled from sleep. He had a fresh white bandage around his shoulder and body. She swallowed the welling of desire as she took him in.
She took heart in the fact that his injuries were preventing her from acting on her desires. She didn’t want to hurt him further.
From his nightstand, he tossed her wand onto the far side of the bed. The wood twitched as if it sensed her presence. She offered her right palm face up.
“Come to me,” she commanded.
The troublesome stick rolled across the bedspread to her hand. Rob didn’t say a word, merely pulling back the covers on the other side. Her side. He resumed his position with icy brown eyes boring into hers.
Did she want to take him back?
Forgiving someone’s mistakes was so hard when the pain they caused was such a familiar one, but she missed him so much. His gruff manner, the smile he only revealed once in a while at the perfect moments.
Wasn’t love about taking chances?
She closed the door softly and lay down next to him.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Dating Tip #9: Witches are like regular women who want all of your attention. Don’t take your lovely lady to a gentlemen’s club. When there’s more eye candy than in a confectionery store, the date will go downhill—very fast.
Having Rob back in her life was welcomed. They’d have time to right the wrongs in their relationship. But now all relationships in Tessa’s life had been fixed so quickly. Some took years.
Guilt was a powerful thing. Especially for Clark Dandridge. Everybody spellcaster has to pay the price for what they conjure—or what they do in real life. The same went for Tessa’s dad.
Of course, that didn’t mean Tessa’s mom didn’t force him to redeem himself at every opportunity. Case in point, every fall and spring he took her mom to New York to let her shop or experience New York fashion week. During this visit, she was pretty sure her mom went through every department store in Manhattan looking for the perfect dress for bridge club. Her small apartment wasn’t meant to host lavish affairs, but for a quiet dinner with her parents, the place worked nicely.
The couple arrived not long after the deliveryman from the Italian restaurant dropped off the food. Her dad had called ahead to warn her that mom was tired of Asian food and balked about not being able to enjoy a nice Italian meal. His office in Chicago ordered the food ahead of time to save Tessa the time and expense. She about passed out when she saw the bill.
At least she didn’t have to worry about her apartment.
As she recovered from her injuries, her best friend had gone through her place from top to bottom.
“You’re too messed up to stop me,” Danielle had joked, “so I’m going to clean up.”
“I have a maid for that.”
As the witch left her bedroom, Tessa heard her call back, “She sucks. She doesn’t feed the cat either.”
Kiki rubbed Tessa’s legs as if on cue to interrupt her thoughts.
“You hungry, sweetie-pie?” Tessa reached down and rubbed the cat between her ears. Her favorite spot. Tessa glanced at the spot in the kitchen where the cat bowl had been tucked into a corner. The bowl was pretty full. Take that, Rob, she thought with a grin.
After some time, the Persian strolled away, off to handle business far more exciting than watching Tessa prepare dinner. With a swish of her tail, Kiki plodded back into the bedroom. Perhaps a nap was in order.
Tessa placed her best plates on the table, alongside the silver from her grandmother. After adding the napkins, the doorbell rang.
After she slapped on a cheerful smile, she answered the door and ushered her parents inside. Her mother wore an elegant lime green dress with an empire waist, while her dad appeared as if he’d recently
come home from work. The man must’ve jumped out of bed wearing his suits.
“You look fabulous as usual.” Her mother kissed her on the cheek.
Her dad greeted her in a similar fashion. The two of them made a nice couple, even if from afar they appeared to be opposites. Her mother was outgoing and ambitious, but only within a social context. Her father was gruff. All the time.
Tessa fetched a tray of drinks from the kitchen. “Is anyone thirsty after a long day in New York City?”
Her father gulped the vodka and tonic she offered him in a single gulp. Whoa! Must have been a crazy morning with mom.
“I had a great time at this one shop. You’d love the place, Tessa.”
“I’m sure.” After she donated an organ or two on the black market, she might afford to splurge on clothes.
“Is the food here yet?” her dad asked.
“I’ve already laid out the silverware and plates. We can eat at any time.”
He made a beeline for her small table and sat down.
“Are you forgetting your manners?” her mom asked.
“You two should know by now my civilities go out the door when I’m hungry,” he said. “You don’t want my blood sugar to get too low.”
Her dad used his blood sugar as the excuse for most of his poor behavior. The man was an avid tennis player, yet according to him he was on the cusp of major diabetic shock every couple of days.
He winked at her mom as she sat down with a grin. It always felt good to see they were happy together these days.
Steam filled the kitchen as she opened the boxes of food. Her stomach growled. Decadent veal parmesan, creamy fettuccine alfredo, and a generous salad for six people.
She gathered the food and placed it on the table while her father droned on. “I’m about to pass out here.”
Before she had a chance to lift her hands away her father served himself a portion of veal.
The doorbell rang and she froze.
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