.5 To Have and To Code (28 page)

Laughter snorted out Daniel’s nose, nearly knocking him off his stump. 

The not-so-old guy in the straw hat grinned and kept rocking.  “Magic just amps up real life, that’s all.  You get used to it.”

Someone wasn’t giving him much of a chance to do that.  “You think this prophecy carries any weight?”

“Maybe.”  Michael looked off at the far horizon and shrugged.  “My wife feels it deep in her bones, and I have good reason to trust what she feels.”

There was more coming.  Daniel sat quietly and waited.

Michael’s eyes gazed over his flowers as he pulled two beers out of a cooler.  He tossed one in the direction of the stump.  “My daughter is the strongest witch of her generation.  I figure, prophecy or not, it’s entirely possible she’ll be mother to a child or two with magic.”

Daniel twisted off the cap.  Odds.  Probabilities.  Risk.  Someone was finally speaking his language.  “Magic’s genetic?”

The man with Nell’s eyes nearly choked on his beer.  “Hell, no.  Magic’s fickle and unpredictable and annoying as hell.”

Something that had been making Chinese knots out of Daniel’s guts loosened.  He thought about the beautiful tree of light he’d seen in Nell’s mind.  “Not always.”

“Nope.”  Michael’s eyes measured him, considering.  “Not always.”

Daniel nursed his beer, thinking.  “Any advice?”

“Yup.  Find a purpose that’s your own.  An anchor outside of witching.  Baseball’s one for you, but you might want others.  Meaningful work, maybe—a job that interests you.”

That suddenly sounded way too much like a question about his intentions.  “Pretty sure I just got fired from one of those.”  Teaching Poison how to use a keyboard legally probably didn’t count.

“I heard you refused to get rehired.”  Michael winked.  “That’s very different.” 

“I’m not sure being an unemployed hacker is much to be proud of.”

“It could be.”  Michael shrugged.  “A guy who can turn company CEOs into Donald Duck at his will might consider offering those skills for pay.”

Daniel winced.  And wondered how the hell Michael knew about Donald Duck.  “Hacker for hire?  That sounds…”  He trailed off, unable to come up with a synonym for “boring” that didn’t sound like an insult.

“Grown up?”  Michael raised an eyebrow.  “Don’t worry—with witches around, you’ll never run short of opportunities to be immature and stupid.”

The one witch he wanted didn’t do much sticking around.

“A piece of totally unsolicited advice?”  The straw hat moved as his witch’s father leaned forward.  “Wait.  I think she’ll come to you.”

Daniel raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“She’s a fighter,” said Michael with quiet certainty.  “No one better at slaying demons.  Even when they’re her own.”

-o0o-

Nell stared down at the message that had just arrived via pink, glittery snail mail.  And sent a pithy curse Shane Cowan’s direction.  Clearly he wasn’t keeping his new wife busy enough on their honeymoon.

Sammy apparently had time to meddle all the way from Tahiti.

My dear, peachy Nell,

As someone smart said to me not all that long ago, “You’ve found it.  And you’re smart enough to know it, and brave and spontaneous enough to do something about it.” 

Don’t screw up.  And don’t eat all the chocolate chips. 

Love, Sammy

The letter had been postmarked the day after the wedding.  Nell sniffled.  Sammy was mostly wrong.  She was seriously stupid, abysmally un-brave, and there wasn’t a spontaneous bone in her body.

But she just might have found something worth fighting for.

And so far, her game strategy had been the most pathetic ever.  Kicking Daniel out the door every time it got hard was wimpy.  And wrong.  And it hurt her heart in places she hadn’t known existed.

It shouldn’t have taken Pedro and Sammy to point out the obvious.  Magic or not, this all boiled down to one thing. 

It wasn’t about whether Daniel could deal.  It was about whether she could.

She looked around her apartment, the small piece of the world where she’d chosen to make her stand alone.  And smiled as the obvious hit her, six years after the fact.  Her aunt’s photographs on the walls.  Caro’s hand-knit throw.  Her mother’s careful, terrible sewing efforts and a bookshelf full of the secret and not-so-secret bits of her childhood.  A bowl that had wrapped around her brother’s head and a butter dish that had survived several epic magic wars.

Her apartment of “alone” was stuffed to the gills with links to those who loved her.

And a really good man had walked in her door, looked around for ten seconds, and understood that.

He got her.  Whether he’d caught up on the rest yet really didn’t matter.  If she looked past her own fears, it was pretty damn obvious that he would.

Nothing much stopped The Hacker.  She suspected that even less stopped the man.

Nell took one last look at Sammy’s letter, laid it down on her mother’s patchwork pillow, and stood up.  She needed to try to fix this. 

-o0o-

He’d never been so damned glad to see a witch at his door.  Daniel pulled it open and tried to behave.  He mostly just wanted to gobble her up.

Amusement flashed in her eyes.  “Does that mean you’re going to let me in?”

Time to lay his cards on the table.  “Always.  You going to stop throwing me out?”

She swallowed.  “Yes.  Witch solemn-high promise.”

Okay.

He gazed at the lines of her, backlit by the sun—and decided it was time to stop hanging out in doorways.  Scooping her up, he walked out into the yard, seeking sunbeams for his woman of fire.  It did his manhood a world of good when she held on tight.  He found a spot under the gnarled guardian tree and sat down, settling her in his lap.

Her chuckles vibrated gently through them both.  “I won’t run, either.  Promise.”

“Okay.”  He nuzzled into her hair, feeling unglued.  The cells of his body, trying to rearrange themselves.  “But I’m still not letting go for a while.”

She leaned back into his chest, fingers tracing his arms.  Light shimmered wherever she touched.  And warmth enough for two. 

He heard her thoughts gathering.  She quieted her fingers, linking them with his.  “What’s in it for you?” 

He’d been asking himself that all weekend.  And he’d finally found an answer.  “A life bigger than I’d have on my own.”

“Bigger isn’t always good.”

His laughter came unbidden.  “I’m a guy.  You really want me to answer that?”

She snickered.  And then sobered.  “Yeah.  I do.”

Daniel dug, trying to find all the pieces of the answer she needed.  “My best friends think I’m a guy waiting for a challenge.”  Or a life of crime, but that probably didn’t help his case any.  “Some people walk the straight and narrow, stay on the paths, obey the street signs, and only play games where the rules are clear.”

He thought of Realm.  “Well, maybe not very many of the people you know.”

She smiled, fingers pulsing warm against his.  “So I’m a way to have some excitement in your life?”

“No.”  She just
was
his life.  “But if you bring some with you, that’s okay by me.”  He tried not to squirm at the psychobabble he was about to unleash.  “And I think it might make me the guy I’m meant to be.”

This time it was her laughter leaking out.  “Good under pressure, are you?”

“Something like that.”  He loved the feel of her in his lap, warm and full of life.

She wiggled around to face him.  “Do you always do that?  Reframe things so they sound less scary?”

He shrugged, not entirely sure if she thought that was a good thing or a bad one.  “It’s a good tactic when you’re facing a two-hundred-pound clean-up batter with mean eyes.”

She looked surprised.

He had to laugh.  “You’d just hurl the ball down his throat.  Some of us lack your courage.”

She sucked in a breath and looked down at his scraggly grass.  “I’m good in a fight.  Not always so good at the stuff in between.”

He reached for her hands again, missing their warmth.  “Sounds like we might do pretty well standing together.”

He saw it—the twinge of fear in her eyes.  And it sliced open something vital in his gut.  “You still think I can’t do it?”

“No.”  Her eyes flew up to his, with a vehement conviction that had his breath catching.  “I’m afraid
I
can’t.”

Daniel shook his head and pulled her close.  It would take a lifetime to sort out the things that did and didn’t scare his witch.  “I’m pretty sure that’s normal.  And if it’s not, I know this guy we can talk to.”

She smiled.  “I think I already did.  He has some theories on armed-and-dangerous women.”

Damn.  Pedro was always one step ahead.  “Did you fire lightning at his toes?”

This time her laugh held tinges of joy.  “No.  I don’t want his Chloe shooting at you.”

He felt it, the living thing growing between them.  Joining.  Welding.

She leaned into his chest again.  “It’s only been, what, a couple of weeks?”

Eleven days.  That had somehow cracked apart his life and reshaped it into something new.  “Well, if your mother’s right, we have a while to work on the details.” 

She sucked in a breath and slid out of his hold.  He watched her trying to hold everything in with her own arms.  And then watched, desperately glad, as she took another breath and sat back down at his feet, apology in her eyes.  Not running any more, but she was nearly vibrating, fingers restless on her tucked-up knees.  “Do we have the right to move this quickly?”

He wasn’t following.  “The right?”

“There are kids.”  She blinked, eyes suddenly bright.  “Little people who would depend on us.  Who would need us to handle it.”

He had no idea how to tangle with something as huge as a destiny written before you were born.  Or small beings who shared his DNA.  “Maybe we’re not meant to handle it.” 

She frowned, the little squiggly lines on her nose that meant she was confused. 

“It’s too big.”  He pushed forward now, the feeling of rightness in his gut gaining momentum.  “In the end, we can only take the step right in front of us.  And then the one after that.”

One step.  One pitch.  Games got won one throw at a time.  In the big leagues, in the sand lots, and everywhere in between.  “The rules don’t change just because of some cute kid with fire in his hands.”  He paused.  Well, some of them did.  But not the ones that mattered.

He reached out a hand and touched her fingers, whisper light.  Waited until her eyes climbed up to his.  “Take the next step with me, Nell Sullivan.  Let’s find out where we can go.”

This time, when she reached for him, sparks on her fingers and dancing white light in her soul, he was ready.

For the woman and the witch.

Epilogue

Retha smiled at the happy bride and groom and sniffled.  It was exactly as she’d seen on the day Nell had been born.  Her bright-eyed girl, standing shoulder to shoulder with a man with curly hair.

Their son would have that hair.  And his mother’s bright brown eyes.

She’d made peace with The Prophecy now.  There was no point in fighting a destiny that came coated with so much love.  There would be challenges ahead for her fierce, lovely daughter, but the man who had panicked when he’d first learned of her power had found his feet with breathtaking speed.

Just the kind of guy you wanted beside you when and if one small boy decided to rock the world.

She looked around, absorbing all the small, endearing details that The Prophecy had missed.

The happy bouquet of dandelions her daughter had carried down the aisle—picked by the guests as they waited for the bride. 

Sammy, three months pregnant and radiant, in from Texas to be the matron of honor.

The two adorable, sticky little girls from Daniel’s guest list who had promptly allied themselves with the biggest troublemaker in Nell’s family—currently holding Devin’s hands and trying to start a water fight. 

Her sons attracted cute, feisty small children like flies.  It was an excellent sign.

The voluble, round Romano, bustling around keeping plates full of his stunning linguine and stealing kisses from women young and old.

Truck, suitably named, playing catch in the corner with a very competent young air witch.  The ball had only landed in the fruit punch once so far.

The t-shirts, sent by an anonymous Realm contingent, that said “I CHALLENGE YOU TO A DUEL, YOU RAT BASTARD!”  In pink glitter.

A bevy of witches from Nova Scotia, led by the indubitable Moira and her Irish fertility spells.  Retha hoped she gave Daniel and Nell a chance to catch their feet first.

It was a beautiful, magical day, perfused with humor and strength and the embracing of diversity.  Exactly the beginning she’d wish for any marriage.

Especially one steeped in destiny and portent.

Her precog talent had been in rare form today.  The small boy with Nell’s fire and Daniel’s curls had put in an appearance several times.  Along with an older brother carrying a baseball bat, and a sister.  Or two, or three—it was hard to tell exactly how many, but they shared the same face, just like her boys.