Warlock Brothers of Havenbridge 01 - Spell Bound (10 page)

“Does crap like this happen a lot in this town?”

The usual hostility in his tone had softened. I guessed saving his ass made me less of a jerk in his opinion. “Freak construction accidents and dead bodies?”

He nodded.

“All the time. We’re the deadliest place to live in the entire country.” It was a joke, but not too far from the truth these days.

He shoved his hands in his shorts, and we continued on in uncomfortable silence.

“Can I ask you somethin’ else?”

“Why not? I’ve got nothing better to do.”

He exhaled. “Are you always this difficult?”

“Is that really the question you wanted to ask?”

“Jesus H. Christ!” he exclaimed. “You’re probably the most aggravatin’ guy I’ve ever met.”

I couldn’t stop the smile that crossed my lips. “I take that as a compliment.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

Drake drew his lips into a thin line. Whatever truce my saving him had earned me had just about expired. I playfully nudged his shoulder, causing him to stumble a few steps. “What was your question?”

He studied me, no doubt trying to determine if I was done being a dick. Even though it gave me great pleasure to yank his chain, it was time for some slack. “Where’s your shirt?”

“My what?” I looked down and was surprised to find myself topless. I’d left my tee in the gazebo. “Fuck,” I groaned. “I left it in the middle of the town square.”

Drake swept his gaze down my bare flesh, taking in every dip of flesh and curve of muscle. When he unconsciously licked his lips, I had to force myself not to smile. He obviously liked what he saw. That made it harder not to grin like an idiot. I had to pretend-cough in my hand for a few moments before my goofy smile slunk away.

“You okay?” he asked, patting my back. When his warm hand made contact with my flesh, I inhaled sharply and started choking for real.

“I’m fine,” I managed after I recovered. “Just swallowed wrong.”

“Do you normally walk around without a shirt on?”

The unfortunate memory of my failed spell on the water hose came rushing back. I shook my head. “I got wet,” I admitted with a frown. “And before you ask, I don’t want to talk about how or why.”

He nodded, and we continued on in silence. I contemplated running to the gazebo to snag my shirt. It was one of my favorites, but my closet was full of clothes I didn’t wear, so I decided against it. Besides, I didn’t want to chance running into Miranda or any of the rubberneckers from the accident again.

I just wanted to get home. I had a lot to sort out, starting with the fact that my spells had finally started working right and then trying to figure out what wrinkle the new dead body added to things.

“Those people you were talkin’ to back there. Are they friends of yours?” Drake asked.

That was a good question. “I don’t really know.”

“You don’t know if they’re friends of yours or not?” If he were any more puzzled, he’d be scratching his head. “As my daddy used to say, ‘That don’t make a hill o’ beans worth o’ sense.’”

I chuckled. How could I argue with that? I really had no clue what type of relationship I had with them. No, that wasn’t entirely true. Miranda and I hated each other. But Charlotte and Adam? I wasn’t exactly sure where we stood. If the Conclave and our parents had their way, we’d hate each other to our cores.

“It’s complicated,” I finally answered.

He nodded. “And none of my business. I get it.”

“That’s not what I meant at all.” Why was I going to explain myself? I never did that. “Our families don’t really get along. Kind of like the Hatfields and the McCoys, you know?”

He cocked his head to the side and jutted out his chin. “You pokin’ fun at me?”

“What? No.”

He didn’t seem convinced. “I know folks around here think I sound weird, but to me, it’s all y’all that sound funny. Y’all have an accent too, in case you didn’t know.”

What the fuck was he talking about? “I don’t have an accent.”

“Are you shittin’ me?” He cleared his throat and spoke in an exaggerated Boston accent. “Oh, look,” he said pointing to my BMW. “There’s where you pahked the cah.”

I frowned. I did
not
sound like that.

“I might not be from around these parts, but I’m not just some hick. I’m actually pretty damn smart.” He raised one blond, bushy eyebrow at me. “Like for instance, you were speakin’ Latin back there.”

I schooled my face as if I had no clue what he was talking about.

“Don’t play dumb,” he scolded. “It doesn’t suit you. You said ‘protegat nos,’ which means ‘protect us.’”

If my jaw dropped any lower, I would be able to swallow my own feet. “You know Latin?”

“I told you. I’m not as dumb as you might think I am.”

“How do you know Latin?”

“How do
you
know Latin?” he asked.

“School, I guess.”

“Not me,” he replied with a smug look of superiority. “I’ve always been interested in other languages. It’s one of my hobbies, I guess. I’m pretty good with ’em too. Taught myself Latin, Spanish, French, and German.
Wie viele Sprachen sprechen Sie
?”

“What the hell did you just say?”

“My point exactly,” he said with a chuckle and a nod. “That was German, by the way.”

I’d never heard German spoken in a southwestern twang before. “Okay, fine,” I admitted. “Maybe in terms of language, you might be smarter than me.”

Drake rolled his eyes. “It’s more than just language, I’m sure.”

It was my turn to roll my eyes at him.

“Why were you speakin’ Latin back there?”

I shrugged. “Just a prayer my mother taught me.”

He twisted his lips and regarded me carefully.

“Is there anything else?” I asked as I unlocked my car and opened the door.

There clearly was. He leaned against the door, but the weight of his eyes—no, his entire presence—rested on my soul. “Why’d you do it? Save me, I mean.” A longing I hadn’t really noticed before flickered within him, as if a spark of hope struck within the well of loneliness that existed within. “You and me haven’t exactly gotten off on the right foot, you know?”

That was the understatement of the year. “Just a momentary lapse of judgment, I reckon.” I was doing my best to mimic him because I somehow knew he’d appreciate it. It would make the distance between us seem more like misunderstanding than anything substantial.

He punched me lightly in the arm. “Stick to your Yankee speak. You couldn’t pull off a Southern accent to save your life.”

I got in my car. “I’ll remember that,” I said, starting the engine. “You want a ride home?”

He contemplated it for half a second before saying, “Nah, I prefer to walk. It’s what we country bumpkins do.” This time he smiled, and it was genuine. It didn’t have that cocky or devilish edge to it like any of the others he’d flashed at me. “And thanks.”

I smiled. “Let’s just not make it a habit or anything.”

“You’ve got my word on that,” he replied.

As I drove away, I glanced in my rearview mirror. Drake stood in the middle of the street, watching me drive off. A smile crept onto my lips. Maybe I hadn’t screwed things up after all.

“W
ELL
,
SAY
something already.”

I’d just finished telling my father and brothers that I’d saved Drake’s life by finally managing some pretty decent spells. I hadn’t gotten to the weird shadow on top of the crane yet, because I wanted to revel in their appreciation of my magical skills. After I was done basking in their praise, I’d finish filling them in.

At least that was my plan had things gone my way. I should’ve known better.

Instead of cheers and rounds of applause, I got silence.

My father sat with his arm extended across the back of the couch. His distant gaze told me he’d retreated to his thoughts. Why the hell did he look so concerned? Wasn’t this what he’d always wanted?

Pierce was lying on the couch, his hands covering his face, while Thad sat rigidly on the piano bench to my left.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” I asked. For the first time in my life, I’d actually gotten something right with magic, and they couldn’t at least pretend to be happy for me. “Did you not hear what I said?”

“We heard you,” Thad replied. If his words had been daggers, I’d be bleeding. “Did you hear yourself?”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Are you fucking serious?” Pierce asked. He bolted upright. “You can’t be that much of a fucking dipshit, can you?”

I’d had about all I could take. I leaped onto the couch and landed on top of Pierce. My right fist connected with his jaw before he had a chance to blink. By the time my left fist struck, he’d managed to shove me backward. I landed with a thud on the mahogany wood flooring, and a few seconds later, Pierce had me pinned. He raised his massive fist, ready to deliver one powerful haymaker, when he suddenly flew off me and slammed into the ceiling, his arms and legs splayed.

My father stood in front of the couch, his right hand upturned and his arm at a forty-five degree angle in front of him. With just a gesture, he’d managed to not only lift my brother off me but keep him confined to the ceiling until his temper tantrum subsided. Dad’s stern expression told us he’d been pushed beyond the limits of his patience.

“Dad,” Pierce gasped from above. “Stop.”

But our father didn’t listen. He growled at me sprawled on the floor. There was that damned warlock temper again, and when my father lost it, the ramifications could be deadly. I half closed my eyes, waiting for him to turn his powers on me. Unlike the rest of us, he didn’t have to speak Latin to call forth his abilities. He’d long since evolved beyond spoken magic; a gesture got the job done. I was thankful he wasn’t like the members of the Conclave. Their thoughts triggered their powers, and right now, my father’s thoughts would have likely ripped me in two.

Thad stepped between him and me. His typically clipped tone had softened. “Dad, stop.” His whisper of a voice broke through our father’s anger. “You’re crushing Pierce.”

He glanced at the ceiling, where the force of his magic continued to push against his oldest son. He shook off the red haze that had momentarily blinded him and turned his hand palm down, lowering it about ten inches.

The force applied against Pierce eased, and he slowly descended from the ceiling until he was gently placed on the couch.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” Dad said to Pierce. Apologizing, even when it was necessary, didn’t come easily for him either. “I let my temper get the best of me.”

Pierce nodded. He clearly feared reigniting the anger that had almost flattened him into a pancake. Either I wasn’t as scared of our father as he was, or I was dumber than Pierce said I looked, because once Pierce was safe, I jumped up and let Dad have it. “What the hell’s the matter with you?”

“Mason,” Thad whispered. He placed a firm hand on my shoulder. “Not now.”

I shrugged off his touch and snarled at him over my shoulder. He stepped back in surprise. Once I was satisfied Thad was going to keep his mouth shut, I faced our father. “You could’ve killed Pierce. Do you know that?”

He nodded. Regret had been replaced by dread.

“It’s okay,” Pierce coughed. The big badass he pretended to be slunk away. He’d been reduced to the little boy he really was, especially when it came to our father. All it took was one look of disappointment, and Pierce was devastated for days. To have been on the receiving end of such a powerful spell would likely haunt my older brother for months.

“No, it’s not.” I took another step forward. “Dad is always telling us how we need to control our tempers in order to better manage our powers. Hell, he’s been hounding me about that for years. What just happened isn’t exactly the picture of control, is it?”

My father’s eyes drew into slits. His anger fought again for control, but he knew I was right. I could see it in the slight grin that hitched up the right corner of his mouth. “Mason is correct,” he finally said. “Would apologizing make it better?”

I snorted. I was pushing my luck, but I couldn’t help it. “It would be a start.”

He turned to Pierce and said, “I’m sorry, son. I shouldn’t have lost control like that.”

Pierce forced a smile. “No worries.”

“Better?” he asked.

I nodded.

“But now we need to deal with the mess you’ve made.”

Oh, for crying out loud. “What did I do now?”

“Is he serious?” Thad asked. The gentle tone had departed in favor of his usual condescension.

“What?” I asked.

“Mason, you broke the laws of the Conclave.”

I glanced nervously from my father to my brothers, who shook their heads at me. “What? How?”

“You cast a spell in front of a human,” my father answered.

I opened my mouth to defend myself, but words wouldn’t form. He was right. I’d been so caught up with protecting Drake, I hadn’t even considered the fact that I was breaking our cardinal rule—magic must remain hidden at all costs.

I
PACED
in the living room, trying to figure out exactly how screwed I was. Casting spells in front of humans wasn’t only forbidden, it was grounds for the binding of the offender’s powers. I could spend the rest of my life forever cut off from my magic, even banished from my coven.

I had to find a way out of this new mess I’d gotten myself into.

“Drake doesn’t know it was a spell,” I told my brothers, who sat in the living room with me. Our father had left the room to answer a phone call. “I told him it was a prayer Mom had taught me. So even though I cast a spell, he doesn’t realize that’s what it was. That’s got to mean something, right?”

I could hear the desperation in my voice as I grasped at straws, but I didn’t care. I loved being a warlock. I didn’t want to lose my birthright for one mistake, especially not since I had finally managed to do something right with the abilities I had.

Maybe I should also tell them my suspicions about Drake being a shifter. I had no proof except how he bounded all over the fucking place, but if he was a magical being, technically I hadn’t broken the law.