American Witch

by Thea Harrison

  After a moment, he told her, “When you broke that vase on Thursday, I thought you were venting your rage in a way that wouldn’t hurt anybody. It never occurred to me that you had no idea what you were capable of or what you’d done.” He couldn’t stand to look at her devastated face any longer, so he pressed the tumbler of scotch into her hands.

  She blew out an unsteady breath and accepted it. In a quick move, she tossed back the rest of the drink. “I felt it,” she confessed hoarsely. “I saw sparks at the edges of my vision, and I knew something had shot out of my body. And then the vase shattered.”

  “Yes.” He nodded. Obeying an impulse he didn’t stop to define, he touched her warm, soft skin, rubbing the sensitive spot at her inner elbow with his thumb. “That was you. There isn’t one in a hundred thousand people like you. Not one in a million, possibly ten million. You hold an incredibly rare Power, and you’re just now coming into it.”

  Carefully, she pulled away to run her fingers through her hair. “But this doesn’t make any sense,” she muttered. “We don’t have witches in my family history, or any mention of magic whatsoever. We’re just your ordinary, garden-variety humans.”

  “You may not have witches that you know of,” he replied drily. “That doesn’t mean you didn’t have any. Witches have been known to conceal their true natures so they can coexist peacefully with magic-intolerant families and communities.”

  He watched his last statement slam home, and her expression filled with dismay. “But why me? Why now?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t think anybody knows. Everyone’s different. Sometimes witches manifest early, from the time they’re toddlers. Some come into their Power when they hit puberty. Others come into it later in life through personal trauma, like the death of a spouse or child, or a strong life shift like menopause.”

  “But what about the old family dynasties in the witches demesne—in Louisville, right?” she asked. “They seem to have witches in every generation, or at least that’s what I’ve read.”

  “Those families have carefully married and bred to strengthen their magical aptitude, but that isn’t any guarantee. Sometimes even the most Powerful families in the witches demesne can produce null offspring.” After pausing, he continued more slowly, “I didn’t have any history of known witches in my family either, but many years ago I was in an accident that put me into a coma for two weeks. When I came out of it, I was permanently changed.”

  She dug the heels of her hands into her eyes. “Is there any way to stop this?” she asked. “Any way to turn it off?”

  He laughed, genuinely amused. “Of course not. Why on earth would you want to?”

  “Maybe because it’s scary as hell?” she retorted. “I don’t want to blow fuses or have my car break down randomly, or possibly hurt someone without meaning to.”

  He sobered. “No, definitely not. You don’t want to hurt someone by accident. Everything you do, you want to do with intention.”

  She looked more spooked than ever. “But I don’t understand what’s really happening or how to control it.” Her voice rose. “I know nothing. This is the first time anyone has said anything to me about any of this!”

  “In some ways you’re a blank slate,” he murmured as he studied her with an assessing gaze. While discovering her had been a massive inconvenience, maybe he could make it work to his advantage. “You’re coming into so much magic it radiates out of you. You’re going to be a very Powerful witch. The only way you can hope to control it is through training.”

  “Training.” She leaned forward. “What kind of training?”

  The intense kind that reshapes your life. He thought it, but he didn’t say it.

  Instead, he replied, “Practice, technique, and spellwork will help you gain control over your own Power. How long that takes is up to you. If you’re dedicated and focused, it will happen quicker.” His gaze narrowed as he considered the idea that had occurred to him. Unlike the other surprises, this one was not entirely unwelcome. “I could teach you.”

  “You could?” She looked even more astonished.

  He poked harder at the idea. He hadn’t planned on taking a student, and in many ways, it would be a hindrance to his goals, but with the kind of uncontrolled Power she was radiating right now, she was like a human Chernobyl. Unless she gained control over herself, she was going to draw unwanted attention to the area—attention he wasn’t yet ready to face.

  “Think of everything we could do.” He studied her as he calculated this new turn of events. “Together, we could become a major force on the Eastern Seaboard if we wanted to—we’d be right up there with the Lord of the Wyr or the Elven High Lord.”

  She coughed out a disbelieving laugh. “Become a major force on the Eastern Seaboard? Where the hell did that come from?”

  His eyelids lowered to hide his expression. “I have ambitions.”

  She shook her head. “My life is in shambles right now. This is too much to take in all at once. I didn’t ask for any of it.”

  “You may not have asked for it, but you’ve got it.” He took hold of her hand and gripped her fingers. “With my training and guidance, there’s no limit to what you can do. Doesn’t that appeal to you on some level? Think of it—really take a moment and think.”

  She hesitated, clearly snared by his words, and her gaze focused on their hands again.

  Turning his voice deep and seductive, he said softly, “You want revenge against your husband for what he did to you? With some discipline, training, and a little work, it’s all yours. You want to be wealthy and powerful? You can achieve it, and it’s easier than you might think.” Obeying the impulse to touch her again, he lifted one hand to brush his fingers against her petal-soft cheek. “Wouldn’t you like to stay as youthful-looking and beautiful as you are now, for as long as possible? Powerful witches can live much longer than the normal human life span. I can show you how.”

  Moving as slowly as he had, she pulled her face away from his touch while her gaze never left his.

  Giving her a crooked smile, he let his hand fall to his thigh. “I can show you how to get anything your heart desires. Anything. Working together, we can create a new future, the likes of which you can’t even imagine.”

  But he had pushed too hard—he knew it the moment the words came out of his mouth. She jerked her hand out of his grip and slid off the barstool.

  “This is too much to take in all at once,” she said abruptly. “Thank you for coming to find me and explaining everything. At least I’m not going crazy. I think.”

  Josiah straightened to his full height. “You’re welcome, but don’t go just yet. We’ve barely scratched the surface of what you’re going through. You’re bound to have a thousand questions.”

  She laughed as she backed away. “That’s a massive understatement. I have no doubt I will.”

  “Have dinner with me, and we can talk over everything in more depth.” He advanced close enough to smell the faint, sexy perfume that she wore. By the flickering of her expression, he could tell that she wavered.

  She even leaned toward him again, and a slow, triumphant smile widened his lips.

  But letting his triumph show was another misstep. Her gaze dropped to his mouth, and she jerked back. “Not tonight. I have too much going on.” She waved the fingers of one hand in a circle beside her temple. “It’s a mess in here. I need to think.”

  He cursed inwardly. “You’re making a mistake. You’ll think better if you talk things out. I can explain anything you don’t understand.”

  Just when he thought she was going to bolt, she did the exact opposite. She took a step toward him and gave him another level look while her Power flared. “I said no.”

  Immediately he backed off and gave her a slight smile. “So you did. Here.” As she watched warily, he reached into his back pocket, pulled out a heavy white card, and handed it to her. “My personal cell phone number. Feel free to call anytime, day or night.”

  She hesitate
d to take it, her reluctance obvious.

  An edge entered his voice. “It’s an offer I don’t make to very many people, Molly.”

  “No, I’m sure you don’t,” she replied. “Just one thing. Is there a spell on that card?”

  Surprise jolted him. He narrowed his eyes. “Why do you ask?”

  Her expression turned fierce. “Because you put a spell on this bar to draw me in, didn’t you?”

  Another surprise jolted him. “Good question, and a very good observation. Yes, I threw a spell to lure you into the bar, but if you had been strongly inclined to do otherwise, it wouldn’t have worked. It was more like an invitation.” He passed a hand over the card and erased the small spell he had cast on it. “Now this one is gone too.”

  Her hand rose and hovered in midair. “What was it?”

  “Same type of thing. A small encouragement,” he told her. “A welcome, if you will.”

  She studied his expression, clearly questioning the veracity of that, but it didn’t stop her from snatching the card. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” He waved his fingers, and the privacy bubble that had surrounded them vanished. “Talk to you soon.”

  Giving him a jerky nod, she walked away. Her relief at leaving was so palpable his expression turned wry. Most women didn’t try so hard to get away from him. In fact, most women looked for ways to get closer. Talking to Molly had been a reality check for his ego.

  His phone buzzed. Pulling it out of his pocket, he checked the screen. There was a text from Anson. Did you get a chance to talk to the Sullivan woman yet?

  Fingers moving rapidly, he replied, Yes.

  How’d it go?

  Pursing his lips, he considered how to answer, and his mood turned grim. We might be facing trouble before we had expected. You’d better warn the others.

  And they weren’t ready for trouble if it decided to show up soon.

  Lost in thought, he drove to his apartment in the city. The DA needed to spend some time in his fashionable apartment before anyone noticed his absence and began to ask questions he didn’t want to answer.

  * * *

  Back in her hotel room, Molly threw the card on the table and spent the rest of the evening taking tags off her new purchases and putting them away.

  Josiah claimed to have removed the spell on the card, and she couldn’t sense anything, but it gleamed against the dark wood as if enticing her to pick it up again.

  She had felt overwhelmed before and talking to him was the equivalent of having another tidal wave wash over her head, only this one was bigger than the first. Now she felt so far underwater she had no idea how to swim to the surface.

  As he had painted the picture of a possible future in his compelling, rich voice, she could see everything play out like a movie.

  A life with no limits. Hadn’t part of her always yearned for that? She had made her choices and she had tried to stick to them. God, she had tried.

  Austin had been her career. She had done everything from picking up dry cleaning to helping him make and foster the right connections. She had poured everything into his law practice, into building their life together.

  In an age filled with takeout and professional catering, people had relished her sophisticated, home-cooked cuisine. She knew how to talk to legal professionals, and she had prided herself on being warm and welcoming to everyone.

  But she hadn’t been loved or valued. She had been someone to get under control. With a fierceness that made her shake, she wanted to hurt Austin the way he had hurt her over the years. She wanted to make him cry like a baby. And wouldn’t it serve him right to see her thrive while he suffered?

  Josiah had said she could be powerful in her own right. Buy her own fashionable house in an upscale neighborhood. Buy multiple houses in different parts of the world. She could have all the lovers she wanted and more money than she could ever need.

  And while she’d been blessed with good genes and still looked youthful, over the past few years a couple of delicate lines had appeared at the corners of her mouth and eyes, and her blond hair had lightened at the temples. She hadn’t gone gray, not yet, but she would if she didn’t do something to hide it. Or maybe she could do something to stop it from happening entirely?

  But something felt off. She had to pick through her reactions to figure out what it was.

  For one thing, she didn’t trust herself right now. Normally she wasn’t vengeful, but she was too angry and hurt, and what sounded good in this moment might turn out to be just as toxic as what she was escaping.

  And Josiah was sexy. Very sexy. She felt too raw to be comfortable with how part of her had liked it when he’d touched her. The gentle rasp of his callused fingers against her skin had been distinctly pleasurable. It had been a very long time since she had felt simple desire.

  Something else made her uneasy. He had been too calculating, too pushy. At some point during their talk, he had come to a decision and had zeroed in on it like a heat-seeking missile. Powerful men did that. She had watched it happen before, and he had already said he had ambitions.

  And even if everything he had told her had been the truth, she wasn’t willing to become the consequence of another powerful man’s decisions.

  After settling that in her mind, she deleted all the texts, emails and phone messages clogging her phone.

  Some were from her mother, and she bit back a sigh. Molly couldn’t put off going to see her any longer. She would far rather communicate everything in an email, but she should tell her mother what had happened in person.

  Or at least they needed to talk about how she had left Austin. Her mother was the quintessential conservative and had consistently voted against any political platform that promoted the interests of the Elder Races or magic users. It would be beyond disastrous to talk about witches, spells, and suddenly acquiring Power.

  Ugh, ugh, ugh. Tomorrow was going to suck. Grimly, she got ready for bed, and later that night she dreamed again.

  When she came to awareness, she was sitting at the butcher-block table again while the woman stood at the counter, chopping herbs. This time the woman wore jeans and a black T-shirt, and her graying hair had been piled into a knot on top of her head. Molly glanced out the window. There was no sign of the shaggy blond man. Instead, rain lashed against the glass panes. A storm was rolling in.

  “You’re a metaphor, aren’t you?” She huddled into herself. “Something I’ve created. You, this kitchen, and everything in it—it’s some kind of message I’m trying to tell myself.”

  The woman’s voice was gentle. “Because everything is all about you?”

  “No, of course not! But I’m making this dream up. Right?”

  The woman shrugged. “If you say so.”

  Uneasily, she shifted and rubbed her bare arms. “If I’m not making it up… You put a spell on me to find you. Why?”

  “Seemed like a good idea at the time.” Chop-chop-chop. The herbs smelled good and fresh. Molly recognized the pungent, distinct scent of sage.

  “What if something happens?” she persisted. “What if the spell breaks? What if I don’t want to come? What if I don’t want to be controlled?”

  “The spell will work if you want it to.” The woman gave her a reassuring smile. “And it won’t if you don’t. It’s as simple as that. You’ll find me when you’re ready. Or not. It’s entirely up to you.”

  Molly muttered, “I don’t find that at all reassuring.”

  Throwing back her head, the woman laughed while outside the window lightning flashed. Then the scene fell away, leaving her even more in the dark than before.

  She woke with another headache, and Sunday went from bad to worse.

  Early in the morning, she set up the new laptop and portable printer she had purchased. Then she organized the contents of the satchel that contained everything from their safe and started scanning files.

  As she worked, she found a set of papers in a folder she’d never seen before. They lo
oked like copies of bank statements, but they were from no bank she knew. And the numbers listed were astronomical—in the millions.

  Millions she’d had no idea existed.

  A cold chill raised goose bumps along her skin. As a partner, Austin made mid-six figures annually, which was quite a fine income. They owned their house and hadn’t worried about money for a long time.

  She could afford to stay in a comfortable hotel, buy nice clothes, and eat good food. She could also afford to take time as she figured out her next steps, and she felt extremely grateful to have her needs met while dealing with the emotional fallout from the end of her marriage.

  But those numbers… She couldn’t imagine how he might have gained access to so much money.

  She didn’t have time to obsess over it. Quickly, she organized everything else, finished an Excel spreadsheet listing all the assets that had been in the safe, and emailed the spreadsheet to herself along with a zip file of the scanned documents.

  Afterward, she showered and braced to face her mother.

  Visiting her mother was always like taking a trip into the past. Gloria Addison still lived where she had when her husband Samuel had been alive. The old, spacious house was on the National Register of Historic Places and had been in the family for several generations.

  As Molly parked, the front door opened. Gloria’s silver hair had been meticulously arranged, and she wore a stylish gray-and-pink dress with matching low-heeled shoes.

  “I wondered when you might finally show up.” Gloria’s voice was chilly, her back ramrod straight. Both were indicators of how the visit would go.

  Molly bit back a sigh and walked into the house. “Hello, Mother.”

  Gloria led the way to the kitchen, and Molly followed. She slid into a seat at the table while Gloria put together two salads.

  While she worked, Gloria said, “Austin called me yesterday.”

  Trying to remain calm, Molly rubbed her temples. Gloria had always approved of Austin. The fact that he had gotten in touch with her first put Molly even farther into the doghouse. “What did he say?”