by Nicole Hall
Lindsey didn’t feel done. She felt…sad.
Dax parked next to her SUV in the driveway, then simply sat and waited. The charged silence stretched between them, and Lindsey was suddenly tired of everything. Magic powers and talking cats and attempted murder. Life was solitary before, but at least she knew what to expect.
“I can deal with brooding, but can we do it inside? I’d like to make use of Calliope’s protections while we sort through what happened today.”
Lindsey tilted her head to study him. “Do you feel different?”
He rolled one shoulder and met her questioning gaze with a blank face. “Yes, but probably not for the reasons you think. Let’s get inside.”
She nodded and walked straight through the house until she got to the kitchen. Once there, she filled a glass with water, chugged it, then refilled it. Apparently, magic use made her tired and thirsty.
Dax joined her, and the tension returned. Lindsey didn’t have a good explanation for the weird distance between them, especially after her magic had broken free. According to Calliope, only a tight bond between her and Dax would release the seal, but she hadn’t noticed anything change in the storeroom.
The car ride home, on the other hand…
She had the choice to ignore Dax’s annoyed attitude—her usual go-to—or she could suck up her own discomfort and face the problem head-on. Lindsey chanced a glance at him to find him watching her with that same poker face.
Relationships sucked.
“Okay, what’s wrong?”
He raised a brow. “You sound upset.”
“Oh no. I know why I’m upset. What I don’t know, is why you are.”
“You used your magic to save us.”
She crossed her arms. “You’re upset because I can finally use my magic?”
Dax mimicked her stance. “I’m upset because we had to be saved in the first place. You didn’t listen when I told you to leave.”
Anger burned in her gut, stoking the sizzling magic inside her. “I’m sorry. I must have missed the point where I agreed to obey you.”
“I don’t need you to obey. You agreed to take basic precautions, but instead of doing that, you threw yourself back into danger.”
She marched over to poke him in the chest. “To save your sorry ass. What were you going to do? Stand really still and hope the boxes missed you? I mean, yes, it was a shitty attempt at murder, but he could have caused real injuries.”
He closed his hand around the one poking him, gentle but firm. “I would have done the same as you. I would have listened and paid attention, dodging as needed, until I recovered some information that would help us fight him. When you refused to leave, we didn’t know you’d have magic fire at your disposal, and I couldn’t hunt him while protecting you.”
Lindsey’s stiff shoulders relaxed as the angry whirlwind inside her calmed to a warmth that filled her chest. He’d had the chance to make progress, but she’d forced him to make a choice. And he’d chosen her.
“I wasn’t going to leave you unprotected any more than you were going to leave me, and now I do have magic fire at my disposal. My full power is unlocked. Even better, I can control it.”
“Was it worth it?” Dax crossed his arms and leaned against the counter like it was any other night.
“Hell, yes. That whole situation was like my worst nightmare come to life. Except the fire didn’t spread. People didn’t die.”
His jaw ticked—not as unaffected as he’d like her to believe. “You could have died.”
Lindsey surveyed the backyard. “We all take chances.”
He moved silently, but she sensed him approach. Not like before. Now she could follow him with pinpoint accuracy. Another new skill courtesy of her magic finally surrendering. Lindsey wasn’t confident it would prove useful, but she wasn’t going to fight it.
Dax stepped in front of her, blocking the view she hadn’t really noticed. He tilted her head until she saw his face instead, no longer blank, but blazing with emotion.
“I don’t give a damn about your magic. I care about you. When I saw those boxes tumbling toward you…” He shook his head. “It terrifies me that you’ll save everyone except yourself. The Fates chose me to save you. Let me.”
Dax’s plea struck at the heart of her. She could handle being injured—it had happened many times before—but she didn’t want Dax acting as her shield. The idea that he might be hurt because of her, because of her choices, filled her with fear she hadn’t felt in years. He’d become too important, and Lindsey would do anything to avoid that.
To her horror, her eyes filled with tears. She didn’t cry. Crying never accomplished anything good. First, Dax had her breaking her own rules and getting emotionally involved, then he had her making stupid vows in her head while she cried.
She blinked, but the prickling only got worse. “I’ll save everyone including myself, and I’m definitely not going to sacrifice you because some haughty goddesses thought they knew best when it came to human lives.”
Dax wiped the tear that escaped off her cheek. “Well, that makes two of us. I won’t let you carry the weight of stopping the gods by yourself because you have awesome magic powers. We’re in this together.”
She’d heard that before from others who’d bailed when things got hard, but Dax had never given her reason to doubt him. Even now, the distance between them came from her, from an attempt to protect herself if he decided this was more than he could handle. It was so easy to assume he’d fail her, but Dax deserved better. She moved closer and slid her hands around his waist.
Lindsey pressed her face against his chest, and when his arms came around her, the rest of the unnatural tension fell away. A tiny part of her had been afraid he’d push her away, but Dax held her, let her tears leak all over his shirt, and stroked her hair.
“You don’t always have to be the strong one.”
“Yes, I do.”
His hand stilled. “We all need help sometimes. Even demigods.”
Lindsey knew he was right, that she couldn’t take on a pantheon by herself, but working with a team had never been her strong suit. He was asking her to put aside a lifetime of lessons, pounded into her over and over again. For him, she’d try.
“I hate crying.”
He chuckled. “I know.”
She reluctantly released him to grab a napkin from the table. Lindsey wiped her face and took a deep breath. “Now that we’re done fighting, I have new information I didn’t get the chance to tell you in all the excitement. There were traces of magic on a few things in the office, but not all of it. Particularly, an ornate golden hand mirror that really didn’t seem like Kora’s style.”
“You mean like the gladiator helm I found?”
Lindsey frowned as she thought about it. “Yes, actually. The mirror had the same ‘do not touch’ feel to it. Also interesting to note, the magic was on both sides of the storage room door.”
Dax rubbed his stubble and the bristly noise sent a shot of pure, visceral need through her. Thanks to Dax, her body associated that sound with some very sexy memories.
“Could you tell if the magic was specifically Kora’s?”
Lindsey smoothed her hair from her face and cleared her throat. “No. Unfortunately, the sensation doesn’t come with nametags.”
“That would make things a lot easier,” he mused.
She threw her wet napkin at him. “I’ve spent a lot of time with Kora. She’s a touchy person, but I’ve never noticed any magic around her. If she’s that good at hiding it—and at this point I’m going on that assumption since we heard her admit she could use magic—then why would she leave sloppy magic trails all over the woods where Calliope spends a lot of her time?”
Dax tossed her napkin into the sink. “You have a point, but I’m not in the mood to take any chances on people who’ve been lying to us.”
He meant chances with Lindsey’s safety. She’d seen how much he liked Kora, but Dax was ready and willing to
immediately throw that friendship aside for Lindsey. The annoying threat of tears returned. Why was she only now noticing all this loyalty and devotion?
“How did they even get those boxes stacked that high?”
“Magic?”
“Is that going to be your automatic answer for everything from now on?”
“I feel like it’s a valid excuse for anything at this point. Car won’t start? Magic. Milk still good a week after the expiration date? Magic. Finding the exact thing we were looking for in the office? Magic.” He grinned. “See? As long as we don’t really understand how it works, we can credit it for everything.”
Lindsey sat at the breakfast bar with a huff. “I wish we had more answers.”
Dax joined her and nudged her shoulder. “For which questions. You’re going to need to be more specific.”
She peered at the sword they’d left sitting on the kitchen counter. “Start with the mirror and the helm. Magic fingerprints are useful for tracking, but they’re not doing me a whole lot of good without a reference point. It would be great if Calliope knew about any connections between items and magic power because they definitely exuded magic.” Lindsey’s brow furrowed as she searched the kitchen. “Where is Calliope? She’s usually around by now pestering me for dinner.”
“Honestly, I’m a little surprised she didn’t just appear in the storeroom when you used your magic.” His attention shot back to her face. “Kora and David mentioned Calliope. Remember? They seemed to be hiding Kora’s magic from her, but they also mentioned ‘the others’.”
Lindsey nodded slowly. “Why would they hide from Calliope? How would they even know who she is if she didn’t tell them?”
When was the last time she’d seen Calliope for that matter? Yesterday, maybe? The cat had been disappearing more and more lately, but for once, Lindsey had good news for her. She’d be ecstatic that Lindsey’s magic finally worked.
Too bad the new crop of questions made her suspicious of her self-appointed guide to all things magical. Sabine seemed to trust Calliope, but did she know about Kora? One way to find out.
Lindsey put her phone on speaker, set it on the counter, and called Sabine. Dax glanced down at the screen, but didn’t say anything as Sabine picked up.
“Hey, Lindsey.”
“How much do you trust Calliope?”
Dax raised his brows, and Lindsey shrugged at him.
Sabine sighed. “We’ve gone over this. She’s secretive and sneaky, but she’s on our side.”
“Has she talked to you about Kora?”
“No.” Sabine drew the word out. “What about Kora?”
Lindsey shared a concerned look with Dax. “I’m pretty sure she’s a demigod, and she’s hiding from Calliope. At the very least, she has access to magic and knows how to use it.”
“Well hell,” Sabine muttered. “That would have made things a lot easier. Look, I know Kora, but I wouldn’t call us close friends. Her and Moira have a competitive relationship, so I tend to keep things light. If Calliope knows about Kora’s magic, she has a good reason for keeping it a secret. If she doesn’t know—and despite what she thinks, there’s a lot Calliope doesn’t know—then I have no good advice for you.”
“That’s what I thought. Thanks.”
“No problem. But I’m going to remind you that you didn’t know I had magic, and in my experience, the person hiding isn’t usually the bad guy.”
Lindsey laughed. “I can assure you that’s not always the case.”
Sabine scoffed. “Oh yeah? You hunt a lot of magic-users in your bounty hunting life?”
“One encounter with a god does not make you an expert.”
“Then why do you keep calling me for advice?”
Lindsey pressed her lips together as Dax tried to hold in a laugh. Sabine had a point. “I’ll keep that in mind next time.”
“You do that. And be nice to Calliope. She’s had a hard life.” Sabine ended the call before Lindsey could respond.
Dax snickered, and Lindsey shoved his shoulder. The call hadn’t answered any questions, only left them with more. Exhaustion started to weigh her down even though the sun had barely set, and like always, Dax picked up on it before she did.
He pulled out his phone and started scrolling. “I’m ordering pizza. No arguments. You’re barely keeping yourself upright on that barstool.”
Lindsey propped her cheek on her hand so she could watch him. Calliope swore the bond with Dax was the key to her magic, but what had changed that afternoon? She’d been in danger before, and her magic had barely responded.
She’d let herself get involved physically and emotionally—a decision she couldn’t bring herself to regret—but that had been growing for weeks. What had triggered the change? He’d ordered her to go, and she’d refused because she wasn’t about to lose someone else she lov—cared about.
The slip worried her. She could care about him, want him, enjoy spending time with him, but if she loved him, he’d inevitably break her heart when he left. Was it too late? Was that the change?
During that moment in the storeroom, Lindsey had come back to him, determined to keep him safe, and touched his back. He’d lost his focus, and when she’d seen the boxes falling, she’d found hers. Nothing would harm him.
Shit. She did love him.
Lindsey stood and tried to shake off the fluttery panic that accompanied her realization while Dax finished with his order. “I’ll be right back.”
She hurried to the main floor bathroom before Dax picked up on her agitation. He’d want to know the cause, and she was not ready to have that discussion. Lindsey closed the door and sank down onto the closed toilet. Oh, she was so screwed.
He’d snuck his way into her heart when she wasn’t paying attention—more important to her than anything else. She hadn’t wanted this, but that hadn’t stopped much in her life. What did she do now?
First, she ran cold water and splashed her face. The chill woke her up and helped ground her spiraling emotions. Until she figured out how to deal, Dax couldn’t know. He’d make assumptions she probably couldn’t fulfill, and Lindsey wanted to spare him that hurt.
One day, he’d realize she wasn’t worth the effort and leave. She remembered her mom, selfish and needy, wailing about being saddled with a daughter, without the love of her life. Time and time again she’d come home to her mom passed out in bed, reeking of alcohol, only to wake up despondent that Lindsey’s dad hadn’t miraculously been resurrected.
She couldn’t be bothered to cook or clean or get a job. Too much work. Too much effort. Despite Lindsey keeping them sheltered and fed with her dad’s social security checks, her mom had only seen her as a burden. You remind me so much of your dad… it hurts to look at you…if only I didn’t have you, I could try to find happiness again.
The truth hurt, but Lindsey adapted. And she learned. She’d applied those lessons every day of her life since then, until she’d met Dax. The man who made her feel worthy and loved.
Lindsey met her own eyes in the plain oval mirror, calm and resolute. She was done letting the fear from her past dictate her future. Dax was possibly the best thing that had ever happened to her, and she’d try her best to be the person he could love.
She washed her hands and left the bathroom with her chin high. Voices at the door meant she’d spent longer in her head than she’d thought, but no matter. Dax met her in the kitchen, where the savory smell of dinner surrounded them. He grinned when he saw her and held up the pizza.
“I have provided sustenance.”
Lindsey’s heart skipped, and she told it to settle down. People ate together all the time without devolving into lovesick puppies. He slid the box onto the counter, and it knocked the sword sideways. She laughed to herself, grateful for the distraction.
“As much as I like this thing, I’m not sure the breakfast bar where we eat is the best place to keep it.”
She grabbed the hilt and held it up at eye-level to get a closer look at the
engraving again. A split-second after she’d lifted it, a tickle of magic fluttered against her palm where the leather rested. Without thinking, Lindsey gasped and let go.
13
Lindsey
Lindsey dropped the sword as soon as she felt the magic, but Dax, with his super speed, caught the hilt before it could skewer any of her toes.
He raised his brows, then spun the sword up into a relaxed stance. “What happened?”
Dax performed that frustratingly sexy maneuver with such ease that Lindsey reconsidered her stance on reincarnation. He’d have made one hell of an ancient warrior.
The sword looked the same as it had in the weeks since she’d bought it. She’d touched the metal countless times—tracing the symbols, cleaning the counter underneath it, once, swinging it around like a kid because she’d had the inclination and some free time. None of those instances had included magic.
Lindsey raised her eyes from the sword to the man. “It has the magic tingle. Like the mirror and the helm…and all the trees around where the god tried to kill me.”
In a flash, Dax went from ancient warrior to avenging guardian. His jaw tightened along with his grip. “The same magic?”
Belatedly, Lindsey realized the sensation had been different than any of the magic she’d felt before. It carried traces of the god they’d been dealing with, but the majority had struck her as oddly familiar.
She shook out her hands. “I need to touch it again to be sure, but I think it’s a new player.”
Dax flipped the sword, extending the hilt to her. Lindsey wrapped her fingers around the leather, anticipating the tickle this time. Unlike the other pieces, it didn’t give off the warning vibe. The magic reached deep into the weapon rather than sitting on top like what she’d been calling the fingerprints.
In those cases, someone using magic had touched those surfaces. In this case, someone had infused magic into the sword during its creation. As far as Lindsey could tell, the power was benign, curled in on itself until she’d touched it.