Making Magic: Books of the Kindling, Book 3

by Donna June Cooper

  She always could read him pretty darn well. “Celebrate, mostly. But with the Feds here I got a full taste of just how helpless I am as a civilian. Got me thinking.”

  Thea grinned. “You always did need to be in control.”

  “It’s not about control. I mean… I just know how much it helps to have trained personnel available in a crunch.”

  Thea nodded. “You get used to being involved. Can’t be easy giving it up.”

  “Guess not. Still, Charlie reminded me that I’ve got options.”

  “Like what?”

  “Reserve Deputy possibly, although Charlie would enjoy bossing me around too much.” He chuckled. “It’s something to consider, but the store comes first.”

  “The music comes first.” She touched her bottle to his. “To the future of Songs in the Wood.”

  “Which you helped launch today.” He took a sip.

  Thea sat at the table and took a long swig. “Glad to help.”

  He sat next to her. “So, what’s on your mind?”

  She stared at the bottle for a while. “I thought I was coming home for Daniel’s wedding and to…to say goodbye to Pops and Becca.” She shook her head. “But it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t all I needed to do.”

  He was right. There was something more to that haunted look in her eyes.

  She worried her lower lip, took another swig of cider and lifted her chin.

  “Is this a two-bottle thing, a six-pack thing, or…?”

  She gave a wobbly laugh. “Oh, I do love you, Jake Moser.” Her eyes widened when she realized what she had said.

  He reached out and put his hand over hers. “I know what you mean, kiddo. Right back at ya.”

  Thea smiled wanly, then put her hand over his. “I’ll be content with you not hating me.”

  He tensed. “What’s this about, Thea?”

  “I was…I was responsible for Becca’s death.”

  “Because you yelled at Mom and told her to get out of there?” He shook his head. “Come on. We talked about that a long time ago. She was drunk, Thea. She—”

  “No, listen to me,” she snapped. “I have this…power. Ability. I don’t know what to call it. I can make people do things just by telling them to.”

  It was as if a puzzle piece slid into place inside him. Everything he had sensed, about Grace, about Thea—all of it was true.

  He could picture her now, standing in front of his mom, chin up, face pale and determined, eyes dark and stormy, voice reverberating with fear and anger…and something else.

  “No! You’re the one who needs to go. Go away and don’t ever come back here! And don’t you ever say that again. Forget it, all of it, and just go away!”

  And the night of the wedding—confronting his mom at the edge of the crowd, and how his mom had suddenly behaved herself.

  But Thea hadn’t said anything that resulted in Becca being hurt. It was an accident.

  “Thea. Mom was drunk. She was going to drive us home that night. Both of us. Becca and me. She would have driven off that embankment whether you told her to leave or not. You forced her to leave without me. You probably saved my life.”

  “Did you even hear me?” Thea stood.

  He stood with her. “I heard you. But you…” he stuttered to a halt.

  Wait a minute. Was this what the Woodsman had meant when he’d said Thea was making amends? She had abandoned Curtis Institute of Music right after Becca died, then she’d gone to law school and taken that job with Hartford. She had stayed away from the mountain. Jake had always thought that Thea was seeking her father’s approval for some reason. But that wasn’t it at all.

  “You…you were… What you did at Hartford. You did that for Becca, didn’t you? You left your music for her?”

  “I what?”

  “You did all that—going to work for Hartford, sneaking into town when your father’s back was turned. You did all that for Becca, didn’t you? Some kind of atonement or revenge?”

  “I didn’t leave my music.”

  “Dammit, Thea. She wouldn’t have wanted that. No matter what you think.”

  “You are not listening to me.” She lifted a clenched fist. “I said I have this power. Like something out of a comic book or a—”

  “It’s a talent, Thea,” he said. “Just another talent, like playing a flute.”

  “It’s not a talent.” Her voice was strident and shrill. “You don’t understand. Let me show you—”

  He took a deliberate step back.

  “You see.” She pointed. “You’re afraid of me.”

  Jake laughed. “Not exactly.” He watched as her hair lifted into the air. Then the flowery edge of her top floated up.

  “What are you—”

  “You’re not the only one with an unusual talent,” he said, bracing himself.

  Thea’s feet weren’t on the floor anymore. She looked down at her toes, dangling above the shiny wood, then back up at him. Her face went paler, if that was possible.

  “But this is me. This is part of it. I-I did this at the wedding and at the festival.” Doubt flickered on her face. “Didn’t I?”

  “Nope.” He tweaked one of the soft fabric ties on her top with some effort and it snaked up in front of her face. “This is me.” It was surprisingly more difficult than just lifting her off the floor in his arms. It felt as if he was using several arms just to hold her in the air, much less deal with the tie. One of the oddities of his talent.

  Chapter Twelve

  Thea felt suddenly weak in the knees and not just because they were no longer supporting her weight. He hadn’t said what she thought he’d said?

  “Wha—”

  Jake stood before her, his hands clasped behind him. The tie of her blouse rose into the air before her and lightly stroked her cheek. It was like she was being surrounded by something and lifted from every direction.

  “My control’s getting better, but sometimes it gets away from me,” he said. “Believe it or not, it doesn’t really help that you’re such a skinny thing.”

  Thea felt cool air on her stomach. Her top was floating in the air, probably showing off her bra, considering the way Jake was angling his head. She could see that there was sweat beading on his forehead. From the effort, or the view?

  She touched the lacy edge drifting in front of her, pushing it down. “This is you?”

  Jake smiled. “Yep.”

  Her top floated back down, but with the ties undone it gaped open revealing a great deal of skin. She watched his eyes stray once again.

  “You…you lifted me off the dance floor. Then dropped me,” she said.

  “Sorry about that. I was distracted. I was thinking about dancing with you.”

  When she sensed that she was starting to drift downward, she raised her hand and circled it, pointing to the floor. Could he do that?

  Jake frowned with concentration and she saw the muscles in his arms tense, then she started to spin slowly in the air.

  “Your ankle looks darn good though.” His voice sounded a bit strained.

  Thea could only cover her mouth with her hands as she turned above the floor. Her top fluttered around her and her hair drifted into her face.

  She was dizzy, but not from her slow midair waltz. “This is… It’s incredible!”

  Even as she said it, the spinning stopped and she was gently lowered to the ground.

  “So is yours,” he said, a bit winded. “The wedding was the first time I’ve seen Mom enjoy herself in years. That was incredible.”

  She frowned. That was hard to believe. “Right. Making her enjoy herself against her will is amazing. Not creepy or controlling.”

  That smoky amber gaze hardened and Jake grasped her shoulders gently. “Think about it a minute, Thea. If you hadn’t done that, how many people would she
have made miserable that night? What kind of memory would your brother have of his wedding? If I had gotten to her, she might have sped off down your mountain and maybe gotten in another accident.”

  She stared at him for a long moment. “You really believe that.”

  “I don’t just believe it, I know it. Like I know what happened to Becca had nothing to do with you,” he said. “Do you remember the canopy that flipped over that night? Almost hit Mom?”

  She nodded, and it clicked. “You did that?”

  “If you’re going to play the blame game, include the right players,” he said.

  Thea shook her head. “It’s not the same.”

  “Listen, Thea, these things we can do—your sister and Daniel and—”

  Thea tried to step away from him, but he kept a warm and steady grip on her.

  “Yeah, I know about them. I’m trained to notice things. I’ve been putting two and two together for a while now.” Jake said in a soft voice. “Your Pops…I think he suspected some things too.”

  “Pops told you?”

  Jake shook his head. “Not outright. And it wasn’t only one thing that tipped me off. It was a lot of things, over a lot of years.”

  His hold on her loosened and his thumbs rubbed gently along her rigid muscles. “He always said the mountain had ways to make sure that anyone who shouldn’t be there would get good and lost trying to find whatever they were snooping around for.” He paused for emphasis. “Like your friend Greg.”

  “He’s not—”

  “Yeah, fine. Your acquaintance Greg.” He smiled. “If I collected a toll from every person who got lost on that road and swore to me that there was no cutoff to the farm—no entrance, no gate, no sign, no nothing—I would be a very rich man. Then there were all the journalists who ended up over in the Pisgah last fall—”

  “That doesn’t prove—”

  “Let me finish,” he said softly. “It’s a long list. Come over here and sit.”

  He led her to the couch then went to retrieve their drinks from the table.

  Thea sank down, numb and disoriented. Jake knew she had a gift—and had a powerful gift of his own. It was a lot to process.

  “How long have you known?”

  “What? About my talent?” He handed her the cider and sat.

  She shook her head. “About mine.”

  Jake looked at his watch. “Two or three minutes.”

  She glared at him.

  “I suspected, Matchstick. I didn’t really know until now.” He nodded. “Although that night at the wedding, I started putting a few things together.”

  “And what else did Pops tell you?”

  He smiled with genuine affection. “He probably didn’t understand how much he was giving away. First, there was Daniel. The Woodsman and I talked a lot about the impacts of environmental destruction on the future. He told me a bit about Daniel’s dreams—nightmares really. I don’t think he had put it all together back then, but a few times when it was just him and me sharing a drink, he would talk about the old magic waking up and the Mother singing again.”

  Thea remembered what she had read on that ancient journal page—her people will learn again to hear her voice, and She will sing—and gulped the cider. She wished it were something stronger.

  “Then I got the call from Daniel telling me almost exactly where to find your grandfather below that cliff,” he continued. “That was a bad day. Especially when I remembered your Pops saying that Daniel ‘sees things we can’t’.”

  Thea raised her hand to her mouth. Pops. And poor Daniel. Poor dear Daniel. As much as she loathed her gift, his must be devastating.

  “Sorry. I guess you didn’t know about that,” he said, stroking his hand down her arm.

  “W-we haven’t had much time to talk.” Too much. It was all too much to absorb. Too much to believe. “What else did Pops say?”

  “He always said that Grace was a natural-born healer.” He frowned at her then circled his finger. “Turn around and take a good long drink of that.”

  Grace stared at the bottle. “Why?”

  “You’re so tensed up you’re making me nervous. Turn. Around,” he said patiently.

  She made a face, but took a long swig of the cider and shifted around until her back was to him.

  “And little Jamie was always going on about how Dr. Grace healed this frog or mended that baby rabbit or whatever critter she happened to tend to.”

  Thea jumped when his hands touched her shoulders.

  “Speaking of rabbits, what’re you scared of, Matchstick?”

  “Nothing.” Everything. You. “It’s…it’s been a long day. A long week.” A long decade. She almost moaned when his thumbs dug into her back, right next to her shoulder blades.

  Jake chuckled. “I used to think it was the herbal remedies Grace handed out, but then I noticed that anyone who hangs around up there for any length of time seems to come out healthier than the rest of us.” He massaged her shoulders. “And all kinds of cuts and scrapes and sprains that should have been breaks—like that ankle of yours—seem to heal damn fast up there. Maybe she doesn’t know she’s doing it, or maybe she doesn’t think anyone will notice. Then there was Nick, who didn’t do a good job of hiding the hole in his vest after that whole Taggart fiasco. It was a gut shot that should’ve killed him.”

  “Really?” Thea said. “They never—” She stopped, understanding what she was giving away.

  “I imagine they don’t talk about it much,” he said. “But don’t worry. No one else noticed.”

  His thumbs moved down her spine and she did moan aloud this time, forgetting for a moment what she had been worried about.

  Jake made an odd noise then cleared his throat. “And she’s gotten damn good at it. I suspect she healed old Eddie’s arthritis. The man’s been acting like a spring chicken lately,” he went on. “Claims it’s Dr. Grace’s new remedy.”

  His fingers paused for a moment. “Then there was my bullet wound.”

  Thea tensed. Surely Grace wasn’t careless enough to—

  “She didn’t march into the hospital and heal me or anything, but every time I saw her she made a point of hugging me or touching me or wanting to see the scar.” He sighed. “The doctors were kind of shocked at how fast I healed, but the whole thing had them in a tizzy anyway, given how little it had penetrated.”

  She turned around. Surely not. He couldn’t have. “Did you…” His expression changed from something like guilt to a confused sort of pride. “You stopped that bullet, didn’t you?”

  Jake looked down at his stomach. “Slowed it down, more like. They explained it away by saying the bullet was a light load, not enough powder in it.”

  Thea gazed at his stomach. “You could’ve died.”

  “It was instinct…I guess.”

  “What, stepping in front of the bullet or stopping it?”

  He seemed to consider that. “Both.”

  She set down her cider to reach for where the scar would be.

  Jake hesitated, then pulled at the edge of his shirt and sat up to push down the top of his jeans.

  It was barely noticeable—a shiny, pale discoloration.

  “Not in a good—” he gasped and his muscles quivered as her fingers brushed the smooth skin, “—spot.”

  The sight of those gorgeous abs and the shakiness of his voice sent a stab of desire through Thea. She was suddenly hot and very bothered. She grabbed for the bottle of cider, but it slipped out of her hand and went flying.

  It stopped in midair tilted right over Jake.

  The liquid inside, however, continued to obey the laws of physics and splashed out onto Jake’s face and throat, dripping onto his chest.

  “Oh!” Thea squeaked.

  Jake looked surprised. The bottle dropped and landed in his lap precisely
in the wrong place.

  “Ow.”

  She snorted with totally inappropriate laughter and slapped both hands over her mouth.

  Jake’s surprised expression shifted from perplexed to annoyed. His eyes narrowed. “Matchstick.” He grasped her arms and pulled her forward until she was inches away from his dripping face. “I oughta make you lick off every drop.”

  His husky tone made her tingle. His eyes had gone all smoky, like barely banked golden fires. For a moment she couldn’t remember how to breathe.

  But this was Jake. Jake, who she had known since she was six. So she leaned in and licked a drop of cider off the tip of his nose.

  She waited for him to smile or laugh, but he didn’t. He held her there, pinned by his whiskey-colored gaze. Then he moved in slowly and licked her lips in return, tasting her once and then again. He pulled her closer to kiss her. To devour her.

  He tasted of cider that had been warmed on the stove and spiced with cinnamon and nutmeg and wood smoke. Hot cider heated slowly over flame. His fingers slid through her hair as he slanted his mouth across hers, seeking some sustenance—something he seemed to need desperately.

  Thea was overwhelmed with sensation. She shivered at his touch and slid her arms around him. Jake. Her Jake. Her crush since she was old enough to know what a crush was but could never admit to. Jake was kissing her. Jake wanted her.

  “Thea,” he whispered against her.

  Tears slid down her cheeks at the way he said her name.

  “Jake, I…” I love you. I think I have since forever.

  He pulled back, searching her face. “Hey, what’s this?” His thumbs swiped gently under her eyes.

  “Nothing,” she said. “I always cry when I waste a good drink.”

  His mouth quirked at that. “Uh-huh.”

  Damn, just when she was going to leave so she didn’t risk using this gift of hers on anyone else. Just when she needed to anticipate what her father might do next. Just when she was planning her escape, Jake Moser decides to hold her like he means it—to say her name that way.

  To melt her resolve with a single devastating kiss.

  “You’re thinking too much.” He tapped the tip of her nose. “And when you do that, what usually follows is a prank or something equally painful.”