Retribution (37 page)

“More than ready,” she answered. The inevitable stares and gasps wouldn’t bother her as much as keeping her feelings bottled up; and no amount of discretion was worth not being able to see his.

They reached the middle of the circle, and Quin wrapped his arm around her shoulders as he addressed the kids. “Would you like to see some more beautiful magic?”

The children nodded, their wide eyes raptly glued to him and Layla, and the adults scooted to the edge of their seats, equally intrigued.
 

“Okay, love,” Quin whispered, touching his lips to her head.

She sighed as they both released their auras and bonded lights, and the adults jumped to their feet as the children cheered and twirled around in the colorful cloud.

“Look at them,” Layla laughed, smitten as she watched the kids, but her view was interrupted when Quin picked her up. He motioned for Alana to join them, and once the toddler was in their arms, he began spinning around with the other children, engulfing them in a bright and shiny cyclone.

Layla laughed as Alana squealed and raised her hands, like she was on a rainbow roller coaster spiraling through a golden cloud; and in the chaotic swirl of their surroundings, Layla glimpsed Brayden, Brietta and Skyla, then Kellyn with Shaylee in her arms, all of them taking joy in the lights. Stunned stares and questions went ignored, and though the spinning eventually ceased, Quin and Layla didn’t stop playing with the kids until her stomach growled.

Quin picked her up and carried her to a chair. Then he summoned a plate filled with her favorite foods. After passing it over, his own plate appeared, but he kept a hand on Layla’s thigh while splitting his attention between his food and Caitrin.

“Agro’s getting reckless,” Caitrin noted. “We think he’s spying on some of the businesses.”

“Think?”

“We don’t have proof, but yesterday a magician entered your grandpa’s shop then bolted when questioned. And some of the others felt like they were being watched.”

“Then they probably were.”

“On the flip side,” Caitrin added, “we heard Agro’s in the Lake Tahoe region, asking questions about Layla.”

“What? Where did you hear that?”

“A reputable source. The area’s magicians say Agro’s name is being tossed around more freely than usual, but the man himself hasn’t shown up, which makes sense, because he’s here. He probably sent a troop down there to mislead us and give us a false sense of security, hoping we’ll let our guard down. If we make it clear that’s not happening, we might be able to buy an extra day or two.”

“Still,” Quin mumbled, “we have a lot to do and not enough time to do it.”

“Such is life,” Caitrin sadly noted. “Finish your breakfast and conceal the next round of guards. Then we’ll work on Layla’s defense magic.”

They ate the rest of their meal in silence. Then they followed Caitrin to a row of seventeen wizards. Those assigned to watch over Agro or the community needed to be concealed, and those heading to the volunteer clearing needed the current password – a quote from Emily Bronte's
Wuthering Heights
:
 
"Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same."

Most of the guests had left, so Layla didn’t feel too insecure when she and Quin met her grandpas in the middle of the lawn for a lesson.

“Remember what we taught you about shields?” Serafin asked.

“Yes,” she answered, throwing Quin a pointed look. “And this time, I’m not stopping until I get it right.”

Her grandpas looked at Quin, as well, obviously waiting for his objection, but he didn’t give one. Pulling Layla into his arms, he gave her a lingering kiss on the head. Then he backed up and cast multiple shields around her.

Soon the spells were flying, the challenges getting harder each round, the time getting shorter until she had no warning whatsoever. And after a solid hour with no breaks, she was repelling everything that came at her with ridiculous ease.

Quin dropped his barriers, and she grinned and hopped around, riding the wave of accomplishment. “What's next?”

Quin laughed as he waved a hand, and a huge box appeared beside him, as big as a storage shed and stuffed with large, foam balls. Quin jumped and pulled one out, tossing it into the air to let it regain its round shape. Then he winked at Layla. “Now we get to throw things at you.”

The ball slowly floated across the lawn, and she grabbed it from the air, feeling how squishy it was. “What's this for?”
 

“It's how we teach children to catch spells,” Quin explained. “We'll shoot them at you, and you have to try to catch them with your magic. It's easier than catching spells, but the theory is similar, and we'll try to counter your magic to make it more difficult.”

She sent the ball back then squarely faced him. “Go for it.”

Quin waved a hand, and the box flipped upside down, dumping at least fifty foam balls onto the lawn. Serafin and Caitrin lined up beside him. Then they each hovered five spheres from the pile.

“Here they come,” Quin warned.

Fifteen blurs came at her from different directions, but she easily spotted them all, and catching them was equally easy, so she floated them back to her three favorite men. She couldn't help but grin and do a little dance, but she kept the jig short since people were watching.

Quin laughed then grabbed ten more, repeating the process while Serafin and Caitrin did the same, but Layla had no problem locating and stopping the projectiles. She forced them back the way they came, tucking them in with the others. Then Quin shot the entire pile at her without any warning.

He succeeded in taking her by surprise, but she quickly found her wits and raised her palms, stopping the foam missiles a few feet from her face. Without a moment’s hesitation, she shoved and extended her arms, and the balls reversed course, charging down on Quin like a cartoon cloud.

He raised his hands, and as his magic intercepted hers, the balls halted in mid-air, flattening under the force of opposing spells. His eyes met hers, and they both smiled as they turned their attention to the projectiles, battling to see who’d prevail and who’d get a face full of foam.
 

Everyone watched the cluster shift back and forth, as if confused on which way to fly, and it wasn't until Quin had a good lead that Layla got serious about her task. His magic snapped, and he ducked as a wave of foam sped toward his face. A few of the balls hit his back and bounced away, but most of them soared over his head, bombarding an unsuspecting Weylin. Everyone laughed at Weylin's dazed expression. Then they looked at Layla, who’d doubled over with giggles.

“I’d say you have this kind of defensive magic figured out,” Quin observed.

She stifled her laughter and flew across the lawn, landing in his open arms. “It was easy.”

“Good,” he approved. “The safer you are, the better I feel.”

“Hear, hear,” Caitrin agreed, stepping away to take a call.

Serafin squeezed Layla’s shoulder and kissed her head. “You truly are a miracle, my dear. Good work today.”

“Thanks,” she returned. “I feel good about it.”

“As you should.”

He ran a hand down her hair before walking away, and Layla watched him go until Quin brought her attention around. “Will you sit with me for a while? I’ll hunt down one of Cinnia’s shakes. You can drink it while I kiss your neck.”

She grinned and widened her eyes. “Now
that's
what I call a reward.”

Quin laughed as he carried her toward the circle of chairs, but halfway there, Caitrin motioned for them to wait, the cordless phone still to his ear.

Quin and Layla traded curious glances then waited for Caitrin to finish his call. After hanging up, he tucked the phone in his bag and looked at Quin with wide eyes. He blinked and swallowed, like a man who’d seen a ghost but refused to believe it. Then the color slowly returned to his face as he explained himself.

“That was Morrigan's cousin. He talked to a friend who's been seething with vengeance against Agro, and you'll never guess what the guy has been up to for the past month.”

“What?” Quin asked.

Still stunned, but in better spirits, Caitrin smiled and raised his hands out beside him. “He's been planning an assault on the Unforgivables, him and more than fifty others.”

Several people gasped, and Quin froze. “You're kidding.”

“I'm not,” Caitrin returned. “They've been gathering and planning for weeks, and when they heard the Lake Tahoe rumors, they headed for California. Morrigan’s cousin convinced them they’re chasing a false trail; now they're eager to join us.”

“Fifty?”

“More than fifty. They should be here by morning.”

Quin shook his head. “I can't believe it.”

“Well believe it, Quinlan. Hope is alive and well.” He slapped Quin's shoulder and kissed Layla's cheek. Then he searched out Morrigan. “Come, sweet peach. Let's open a bottle of wine and toast our good fortune.” He opened his arms as Morrigan flew into them, and the rest of the crowd followed them for a toast.

Layla smiled as she watched them go, but when Quin made no effort to follow, she found his face, its strong contours furrowed, his eyes shiny. “Quin? What's wrong?”

“I just... It doesn't seem...”

He paused and took a shaky breath, and Layla’s heart jumped into her throat. She rarely heard him struggle with a sentence, and the word stutter never applied to him. “What's going on, Quin?”

He still didn’t answer. He just sat on the ground, made her comfortable on his lap, buried his face in her neck, and cried. Cried! She’d never seen him cry! Not even a little bit.

Her throat tightened as her heart squeezed, her own eyes growing moist. Then she swallowed a lump and raised a hand to his head, running her fingers through his hair while his tears moistened her shoulder. After several seconds and a deep breath, he kissed her neck and found her face.

Trying hard not to burst into hysterical sobs, Layla took his cheek. “What's going on, Quin? Please tell me.”

His palm closed over her hand as he touched his forehead to hers. “For almost two weeks now, I've been facing not just the possibility of your death, but the probability of it. It's been like a red-hot anchor in my stomach, constantly weighing me down, constantly making me feel like I’m failing. The moment we found out you're being hunted, a timer started, and I've been terrified of its ticking, dreading the day Agro finds you. The consequences haunt me – a cloud raining physical pain on my body as surely as it rains emotional terror on my heart. But now, with Caitrin's news, and for the first time in days, I can look to the future and your death isn't the first thing I see. Now I can hope for survival, a chance at life without Agro, and it’s beautiful, Layla. It’s what I want most and we’re closer than ever to getting it.”

Layla blinked back tears as she shook her head. “I had no idea. Why did I not know this?”
 

“Because you're the only thing that makes it better, angel. You make me smile and ease my pain, so don't feel guilty.”

Before she could argue, he flipped her around and laid her on her back. Then he had her pinned with a kiss, just his lips on hers as his sturdy arms braced him in a push-up position. She gripped his sides as her knees started to part and rise, but then she remembered they were on the lawn and forced them back down.

His lips curved toward deep dimples as his eyes sparkled. “Does this embarrass you?”
 

“It doesn't matter,” she answered, trying to pull him back to her mouth, but he rolled onto his side, blocking her from everyone's view.
 

“It matters to me. Besides, who says we can’t take our break inside?”

“Mm... When you put it that way, yes, this is extremely embarrassing, and I’ll simply die if I have to take one more second of it, so you should probably take me home if you want to keep kissing me.”

“What about your shake?”

“Screw the shake. Take me home and kiss me.”

He wasted no time scooping her off the lawn, and as he carried her to the house, he connected with his dad’s mind, letting him know the afternoon's password – a quote from a letter written by John Keats:
"Love is my religion – I could die for it."

Chapter 26

The temperature dropped as the forest grew dim, the sun sinking behind western clouds. Agro had been asleep for hours, and Guthrie had tried to do the same, but peaceful rest eluded him. He’d tossed and turned and drifted in between sleep and wakefulness for hours, so he finally gave up and got dressed.

Maybe he had time to drop by Lynette’s tent before Agro rose for the night.

A visit before his attempt to sleep would have been ideal, and he tried, but she wasn’t in her tent and he wasn’t about to hunt her down. If she still wasn’t there, he might have to settle for another witch. His tension was at an all-time high.

As he approached Lynette’s tent, Token emerged from the canvas flaps, and Guthrie’s temperature spiked, his jaw and hands flexing.

“Hey, man,” Token greeted, slapping Guthrie’s tense shoulder. “You look rough. No sleep?”

“No,” Guthrie answered, glancing between him and Lynette’s quarters. “You?”