Something About Witches

Page 32

Forking up some pancake, he aimed it toward her mouth. “Eat.”
“I don’t need you to— ooph.” She gave him a narrow look as he poked the food past her bared teeth. She was hungry, and the pancakes were very good. “Linda didn’t make these. You did.” He was the only man she knew who made pancakes like fluffy sweet manna instead of the bitter, thin pancakes most people consumed.
“She made the meat, fruit and grits. I wanted to make you pancakes.” He speared one on the platter, dropped it on her side of the plate. “That one has butterscotch chips in it, like you like. The other two have chocolate chips, so you can tuck them away for a snack later, since I know you prefer that type cold, when the yeast settles and makes them really dense. The two in the middle are plain, for your maple syrup. You’re bound to have an appetite after last night.”
In fact, the use of black magic acted contrary to white magic, robbing one of an appetite. But with Heaven melting in her mouth, the Light won out. She’d tuck away as much as she could— to keep him from nagging, of course. From the look in his eyes, she was pretty sure he already knew her appetite wasn’t what it should be. So she’d eat all of them, even if she had to go throw some up later. Though it was probably a criminal act to throw up pancakes made by his skilled hands.
“I can feed myself.” She snatched the fork away from him and stuffed another mouthful in, reaching for the syrup.
“Lovely table manners.” Putting a napkin by her elbow, he picked up his own fork and repeated the command. “Eat. We won’t talk for a bit.”
That part almost made her smile. Derek took food consumption very seriously, actually preferring to eat in silence. Since she really didn’t want to talk about a lot of subjects, it suited her as well. However, while they ate, she shot surreptitious looks his way. Mostly he was studying the scenery outside as he chewed, though occasionally he glanced toward her. His knee pressed against hers because of the length of his long legs. She didn’t scoot away.
The warm kitchen, the good breakfast smells, the sunlight bathing them, made things feel lazy and slow. After she ate as much as she could, it therefore seemed pretty natural to sigh and lay her head on his broad shoulder. She closed her eyes to take another quick five-minute doze, letting the rhythm of his body’s minute shifts as he chewed, swallowed, cut and speared each bite, take her to that resting state.
Breakfast was the most aromatically comforting meal of all, and when Derek’s scent was part of that concoction, coffee and leather, laundry detergent and the sandalwood shaving soap he used— it just enhanced the effect.
It intrigued her, thinking of him doing his laundry. From the times he’d stayed with her, she knew he didn’t handle mundane chores with sorcery unless it was a teaching exercise to hone skills. In his opinion, doing otherwise was a misuse of power and also negated the importance of doing tasks in the way they were intended to be done.
Only a man who’d lived hundreds of years could feel that way about vacuuming. She’d be happy to break all the rules of sorcery to do the Mickey Mouse Sorcerer’s Apprentice thing and have her vacuum roll out on its own.
However, from what she could tell, he liked doing such things. The world was full of men who hated chores and house maintenance. Derek acted like it was a vacation to wash dishes, fold laundry, measure and hammer a shelf in place for her. Standing back from everything, all her fears and insecurities, she remembered how he’d captured her heart. He was a unique spirit who seemed to understand the precious value of every simple moment, and when he was with her like this, she understood it, too. Things seemed clearer, more in focus. Steadier. Less painful.
Like now. She could rest her head on his shoulder, know he’d let her be, let it stay quiet, no matter what they’d be fighting about later.
After a time, he shifted, used one hand to scrape her stool even closer to him. Then he slid his arm around her so she could pillow her cheek on the inside of his arm, the firm curve of pectoral. His hand lay on her hip, fingers stroking there, over the soft give of her buttock. When he lifted his coffee to his lips, she smelled the pleasantly bitter aroma, for he drank it black and strong. Then there was the clink of the fork, the smell of maple syrup, his jaw moving against her hair as he ate another pancake.
Probably twenty minutes passed that way. She didn’t think she’d been this…. still, in a very long time. She dozed some, but mainly she just let herself be hypnotized into a tranquil zone by his rhythm, the calm energy around him. When the screen door creaked, suggesting Linda was returning, she opened her eyes to see the platter of pancakes was empty except for her two chocolate chip ones. He was mopping up the maple syrup on his plate with the last few bites of his sausage.
As she straightened, blinking, a wet nose touched her hand. It wasn’t Linda but Theo, who’d simply nosed open the warped screen door and come on in. “Did those young’uns leave you behind, Theo?” Derek asked, reaching down from her hip to scratch his ears. “Or have you had enough of that nonsense and thought you’d come get some leftovers?”
He picked up a sausage link she now saw he’d deliberately set to the side and offered it to the dog. Theo took it with polite stateliness and then moved to the corner of the kitchen to collapse into a sun spot, propping his chin on a one-foot stool that was left next to the pantry. A piece of furniture every short woman needed, Ruby knew, because home builders assumed everyone was Abraham Lincoln’s height. When Derek stayed with her, she hadn’t needed such a thing. In fact, he usually tucked her short stepladder under her kitchen counter so he wouldn’t trip over it. A small, familiar ritual of his comings and goings in her life.
She slipped off the stool. “However this Great Rite is going to happen, I need to go and do some things to prepare for it. Thanks for breakfast.”
Wiping his mouth with his napkin, he turned and leaned an elbow on the counter, hand lying loosely on his splayed knee. “We talk first, Ruby. Particularly if we’re going to do this thing tonight.”
“Is this the superpower cop talking to me, or Derek?”
“Whichever gets the job done.” He gave her an even look. “You used soul magic to drive me away from you.”
It wasn’t as much of a shock to hear him say it out loud as she’d anticipated. After all, if Raina knew it, that meant she’d probably learned it from Derek. But the angry feeling that sprouted in her chest like a thorny vine of Mother-in-Law’s Tongue was sharper than she expected. It didn’t feel like herself, scared her a little bit. But telling him the truth scared her more.
You let it drive you away.
That was entirely unfair and unreasonable, which was the only thing that kept her from lashing out with it. But her cursedly transparent face must have shown it, for his expression tightened.
“You’ve been experimenting with spell and energy use that pulls from both the Light and Dark sides of the fence. Dipping into the Underworld’s well. Who’ve you been paying for that? And, more importantly, how much?”
“No one.”
His expression clearly said he wasn’t buying it, and she knew he wasn’t going to let it go. Derek didn’t follow the rules that civilized men did, and he wasn’t just hitting her with the demand of a lover and friend, but a cop who was in charge of this kind of shit as well. And no one took his job as seriously as Derek. A white knight in truth. Shit.
Maybe she could give him parts of it, and that would be enough. Circling to the other side of the island, she took a stool there with the barrier of the counter between them. Of course, it put him square in front of her, those relentless eyes seeking the total truth.
“You know I’ve always studied magical theory, the unique way each magic user twines their internal energy with collective and divine energies.”
He nodded. She laced her fingers together, unlaced them. Though she took some moments gathering her thoughts, it wasn’t to prevaricate. This was complicated. And she appreciated that he said nothing, waiting. He was prepared to listen. In truth, this was the first time she’d ever been able to tell anyone about it. Despite what could happen when he forced her to discuss application instead of theory, she couldn’t help but feel some eagerness to explain it to someone who would understand the significance.
“I discovered that I could draw power from places recently…. visited by Underworld energies. Or places closely aligned with them. Harvest the residual rather than visit the store and pay the direct price for it. It’s like taking crumbs falling from a table, Derek. I figured out a way to gather it up, meld Light with Dark magic. Like adding another metal into silver to make it into a stronger frame.”
“No one’s ever done that before.”
“No.” And it pleased her in an altogether dangerous way, that he acknowledged the accomplishment while showing little surprise that she was the one who’d figured it out. Careful, Ruby. In this, he’s not your friend. He can’t be.
The insidious reminder made her hunch her shoulders, took away some of the pleasure of it. When she rubbed her hands over her arms, getting rid of the goose bumps, she was way too cognizant of how he caught the motion, how he interpreted it.
“All that study.” She gave a bitter laugh, lifted a shoulder. “Turns out I can’t cook a grilled cheese sandwich, but I’m a fucking gourmet genius when it comes to dishes that combine unexpected ingredients.”
“What changed?”
“One day, I started understanding the underlying spirit in the matter. I could see it, like puzzle pieces. I knew how to file and fit them, whether they were Light or Dark.”
It was amazing how great trauma, a life-and-death, soul-shattering event, could open the eyes. Some people saw the white tunnel, relatives waiting. She’d seen knowledge, like the tree in Eden, just waiting for her to grasp that apple, the serpent whispering to her to take the power.
She snapped back into the present again. She knew she really hadn’t answered the question he asked. But like a patient lawyer, he rephrased to get at the information. While, like a witness trapped in the box, she watched him change the angle of his attack and couldn’t move, a deer in the headlights.