01 Do You Believe in Magic - The Children of Merlin (17 page)

A lump formed in his throat. He
had to make her understand this for some reason. “No, really. It’s
satisfied that it can fulfill its purpose. Just listen to the
motor. Can’t you feel it?”

She didn’t roll her eyes. He’d
give her that. She set her mouth though.

“Listen?” He didn’t like how
plaintive he sounded. “Uh, just don’t close your eyes.”

She snorted a laugh and that
broke the mood of her disapproval. “Oh, okay.” She took a deep
breath and sighed it out.

Her eyes got that soft look
she’d had in the corral with those thundering mustangs. Calm
cascaded over the cab of the truck. Shit. What was that about?
She’d had that look on the drive to the ER in Reno too. And he’d
felt the calm then, in spite of how broken he was.…

A long silence ensued. Tris
couldn’t seem to help the feeling that shushed through his body. It
wasn’t quite arousal, but it was … like being attuned to something.
Yeah. That was it. Like he felt with a motor he was working on. He
was feeling the truck’s motor with Maggie, through her. His mind
skittered in excitement and was brought back to calm.

Weirdest shit he’d ever
felt.

She gasped in a little breath,
breaking the spell. “I felt it,” she said, surprised. “I felt what
you feel.” She glanced over to him, puzzled. “It isn’t like feeling
an animal’s mood … exactly.”

Tris blinked rapidly. No one
else he knew could hear the mood of an engine, not even José, and
José was a genius with engines. “But …” he croaked. “But kind
of?”

“Yeah,” she said in a meditative
tone. “Kind of. I can feel it’s satisfied to be in tune, knowing
it’s strong enough to pull the load. Like harmony or something.
Funny.”

Funny wasn’t the half of it.
Tris was stunned. This girl understood. And maybe he got a glimpse
of how she felt with horses. Not that different. Now
that
had interesting possibilities....

They came around a curve and
right into a billow of black smoke.

Maggie leaned in, peering
through the windshield. “What the hell is that?”

The world looked like it might
after the apocalypse. The acrid smell of burning rubber filled the
cab. Tris felt Maggie tap the brakes. The visibility was nil. She
probably couldn’t brake harder without putting the horses on their
knees.

Suddenly they were through the
smoke.

Off to the side of the road was
a pickup, totally engulfed in flame. The fire made an evil flapping
sound. Tris pulled his eyes away from the slumped charcoal statues
just visible in the cab. A couple of black and whites from the
California side were pulled up behind it, lights blinking. Tris
heard the siren of a fire rig or an ambulance screaming up behind
them. A patrolman got out of his car.

Tris’s eyes were drawn to the
still figure of a very tall man standing on a little rise behind
the burning truck. He showed no emotion, just stared. That seemed
odd. Several people watched the blaze, even though there was
nothing to be done. But their faces were transfigured by horror, or
fear, or
some
kind of intense emotion. A woman buried her
head in her man’s shoulder. A guy was wiping his eyes. But this
character just stood there, absolutely still.

“Should I stop?” Maggie worried.
Tris jerked his attention back to her face. He didn’t think she’d
seen the figures in the truck.

“No,” he said. “Nothing we can
do. Nothing that ambulance can do either.” Whoever was in there was
dead. Beyond even shrieking and writhing in pain. Not a good way to
go.

One of the patrolmen waved them
forward. Maggie eased back up to speed and soon the smoke was just
a black pillar in the rearview mirror. Tris couldn’t make out the
figure who stood and watched. When even the smoke was obscured by a
turn in the road, Tris glanced over again to Maggie. She had the
saddest look on her face. Guess he was wrong about her seeing the
people in the car.

Tris cleared his throat. “Sorry
you had to see that.”

She swallowed and tried to shrug, acting
the tough girl. It wasn’t working. “It was red and square, just
like my truck,” she said in a small voice. “Guess I’m just
sentimental.”

*****

“
Excellent.” He flipped the
cell phone shut on Prentice’s call. One ex-Tremaine, an ex-girl,
and an ex-truck. Now he could report success. Which was good. Now
he didn’t have to find the O’Brian place. Maggie O’Brian and
Tristram Tremaine were probably already in body bags over in
California.

He flipped open the cell and
dialed the old woman. “Prentice got them,” he said. “Just like I
planned.”

“
Eventually.”

“
But they’re dead now, for
sure.” That had to be enough to redeem himself.

“
Come on home.”

Home. Yeah. The Clan and the old
woman were all he had, now that Selah was gone.

“
We have to find a way to get
to the other Tremaines. And you need to meet my new weather
controller.” She sounded excited.

The old woman was assembling
them. And soon no one would be able to do anything to Jason he
didn’t want, except the old woman. She might be the most
frightening creature he’d ever encountered. But if she was on your
side, she could keep the other nightmares away. And the world was
full of nightmares.

“
I’ll be there tonight.”

*****

Maggie gave Tris some line about
the burned-out truck looking like hers just because she didn’t want
to reveal how shaken she was by those two charred figures slumped
in the fire. Maybe because it had looked like her truck, the fate
of its occupants was even more real. It took all she had to
concentrate on the turning mountain road. It was one thing to see
someone on fire in some horror movie on TV. Inside you knew it was
just the work of some stunt people and a makeup artist who’d be
crying their thank-yous on awards night. But those two were not
going to show up anywhere except in pictures taken by the coroner,
and they died in screaming agony.

Tough as nails Maggie O’Brian
wouldn’t be upset about this. Been around. Seen shit. And she had.
Horses squealing in pain. Cowboys kicked in the head who wouldn’t
be rodeoing again anytime soon. Hell, the man sitting next to her
had broken bones sticking out of his leg and she’d kept her cool.
Mostly. She chanced a glance to Tris. He had a concerned look.

“Uh, sorry there’s no radio to
put on,” he said.

“Yeah.” His hand rested on his
thigh. Did he have to do that? She didn’t need to be thinking about
his thighs. Why couldn’t she do for herself what she did for
horses? He cleared his throat. But nothing else came out.
Obviously, he had no idea what to say to her.

She had to admit that his trying
to distract her was, well, thoughtful. She ought to cut him some
slack. At least make an effort at conversation. “So … what about
this business of yours in LA? Want to tell me about that?”

No. The answer was written
clearly in his uncomfortable expression. But he gathered himself
and made the effort. “Not much to tell. I’ve got a body shop. I
restore old cars and cycles. Used to anyway.”

“Where is it?”

“Just east of downtown.”

So the shop still existed. But
that was the barrio.... “Oh. Bad neighborhood.”

“Just poor.”

“Gangs?”

He nodded. “They leave the place
alone.” He talked about it in the present tense.

“Why?”

He looked over at her until she
glanced away from the road. “Because I hired some rival gang
members. I taught ’em how to work on their own cars provided they
left the violence at home and didn’t steal the parts. Couple of ’em
are pretty talented.”

Smart. “So … you have a
crew?”

He shrugged as well as he could.
“Fifteen guys, not counting the apprentices.”

Whoa. He wasn’t some itinerant
mechanic. He was a capitalist. “I thought apprenticeships went out
with indentured servitude.”

He glowered at her. “Takes more
than a high school class in metal shop to learn motors and metal.
You got to serve your time with guys who know.”

“That how you did it?”

He looked away. “I, uh, taught
myself.”

Interesting. “Oh, do as I say,
not as I do?” She lifted her brows.

“Yeah, smartass. Prevent them
from making the mistakes I made.”

He wasn’t just talking about
mistakes in metal. She could see it in his eyes. “Uh, you still own
this business? Cause you sure act like it.”

He looked at the passing forest.
“Yeah. Just haven’t been there in a while.”

The emotion in his eyes shut
down. He was going to clam up unless she prodded him. And that
didn’t seem right, when he knew all her deepest, darkest secrets.
Like Elroy. And Phil the Rat. “So. These apprentices work for
free?”

“You’re determined to make me
into the villain, aren’t you?” He went silent. She’d pushed too
hard. His mouth tightened into a grim line. She thought he’d turn
away, but after a minute he stared at her defiantly. “Look, I pay
good wages,” he said in a low voice. “Health insurance. Hell, I
even sponsor a Goddamned Little League team.”

Okay. She’d been kind of an
asshole. She took a breath. “I’m sorry. I ... I sometimes make
assumptions.” When had she
ever
apologized to anybody?

He looked away. “You’re not
alone in that.” He was mad now. “You also go on the attack when
you’re feeling defensive.”

“
Defensive?
I’m not being
defensive, and if that remark isn’t an attack, after I
apologized
no less, I don’t know what is. It’s
you
who’s defensive.” Her outrage almost closed her throat.

To her surprise, he sighed a
half chuckle. “Yeah. I’m defensive about the shop. Sorry.”

Wow. She’d been gearing up for a
big, satisfying argument and he just caved. Still, she hadn’t been
defensive. What was the good of being right if she couldn’t shove
his face in it?

So why
had
she gone on
the attack? She stared at the road as it wound through pine trees.
A semi ground its way up the hill in the opposite lane, bringing
back images of a lonely road and a semi barreling off into the
night.

Maybe she was on the attack
because Mr. Movie-star Biker was not the total bastard she wanted
him to be. His urge to protect her from Elroy last night had
touched her. His tenderness in making her an ice pack had made her
want to kiss him. And a lot more. Even now she lusted for him, and
that made her vulnerable. Worse, she admired his skill with motors
and found him … well, intriguing. All that Zen engine stuff spoke
to her. For an incredibly handsome man who must know it, he
actually defied her expectations. He should be smug. Guys who
looked like that were. But he wasn’t. He’d never even tried to
charm her. He was tongue-tied when she saw him in the hospital and
embarrassed about needing a ride to LA. He was vulnerable about
something she couldn’t identify. Now he had some self-awareness?
Dangerous.

But the fact that he was … well,
likable
didn’t change how very, very wrong he was for her.
In fact, it made it worse. She might be tempted to give into her
body’s demands where he was concerned. And then where would she be?
He’d admitted that he’d done drugs. She knew he fought and drank.
Those she could forgive. But he also said women fell over him, and
he took advantage of that. Tomcat. She sure as hell didn’t need
that. Men! To hell with them all. She’d have a fine, lifelong
relationship with her vibrator.

The only safe course was to give
him the silent treatment for seven hours into LA.

Or maybe the best defense was to make
him run for the hills (figuratively, since he wasn’t in any shape
to run). And she knew just the trick to make sure a man like Tris
Tremaine would treat her like she had the plague. But the price was
revealing Maggie O’Brian’s last secret lust. The one she tried to
cover up with admonishments to herself. The one that just might
kill her someday.

*****

Tris watched the play of
emotions across Maggie’s face as she took the truck through its
gears on the curves. Uncertainty and a little regret turned to
resolve. She pursed her lips.

Uh-oh.

“Yeah, I’m sorry too,” she said.
A long pause ensued while Tris’s dismay built. When a stubborn
little rodeo rider pursed her lips like that, you were in trouble.
She was thinking about what to say, or maybe how to say it. “Guess
I’m not really comfortable around guys. Inconvenient, since I spend
most of my life around guys. Makes for a hair-trigger temper.”

Tris adjusted his leg by lifting
his knee a little. “I can see how you would be.”

“Double bad, since what I want
most in the world is …” She swallowed and went pale. “Is to have a
husband and kids. Maybe lots of kids. A … a family. That’s scary,
you know?” She heaved in a breath and held it for a minute before
she let it out. She was wound tighter than a winch cable with a
sixteen-valve motor hanging on it. Did that mean she was lying?

God, he hoped so. “Yeah, I know
how it is. What you want most scares you silly.”

She shot him a grateful glance.
“I like to think I could do better than my mama, if I got a chance.
Maybe I can’t. Maybe I’ll turn out just like her and ruin a good
thing. Or maybe I’ll never get a chance. I always kept away from
boys after Phil the Rat.”

She wasn’t kidding. The
wandering rodeo rider with nerves of steel wanted true love and
babies, because she’d never had a loving family. He had a hard time
getting his breath.

He should have known. What woman
isolated herself and took to rodeoing, but someone who thought they
wanted no ties? Especially if her mother deserted her and her
father was an asshole and her first love left her? Crystal clear.
End of story. Except ties were the one thing she’d never had. And
so they became the one thing she secretly wanted. She was revealing
her soul here.