Witch Fire (27 page)

Adam, a fire witch who had the body of a weight lifter and a nose that had been broken more than once, helped Annie to her feet with a gentleness that seemed at odds with his obvious physical strength. Annie stopped in front of her, and Mira cupped her godmother's face in her hands and kissed her cheek. “I love you, Annie.”

Tears streamed down Annie's cheeks. “I love you, too, kiddo.”

“Now go. I'll be right behind you.”

Adam helped her out the door.

Mira could feel Jack's gaze on her back. She stared at Thomas, struggling not to turn around and go to him.

“Mira,” Thomas said. “Jack is a good man. He can't help who fathered him.”

She went stiff. She shifted her gaze so she looked through Thomas, instead of at him. “I don't care about that, Thomas. I don't care who his father was or that when he was a little kid he saw my mother die. But I do care that he lied to me about it,” she said tonelessly. “I love him, Thomas, but he lied to me.”

Thomas sighed. “It's my fault. I asked him not to tell you who he was. Thought it would interfere with the job if you knew. I never thought you two would fall in love.”

“And he obeyed you blindly. I don't accept that. He should have told me.” Mira pushed past her cousin without looking at Jack and left the room to follow Adam and Annie.

At Thomas's building the doorman called an ambulance. She knelt beside the couch in the lobby, where Adam had helped Annie sit down.

Annie fisted her shaking hands in her lap. “I thought maybe you hated me.”

“Hate you?” She covered Annie's hands with her own. “I could never hate you, Annie. You've been a mother to me my whole life.”

“But I kept things from you.”

“You did what my parents asked of you. You're loyal. When everything started to go down, you did your best to protect me.” She shook her head, her eyes filling with tears. “I don't hate you, Annie. I love you.”

The ambulance pulled up to the curb and the paramedics rushed in, tending to Annie. Adam told them that she'd received the burns from a space heater incident gone awry. The paramedics looked askance at that, but they didn't ask questions, they just bundled Annie into the back of the ambulance.

When Mira tried to climb in the back with her, the paramedic stopped her. “You'll have to follow in a car. We're taking her to Mercy General.” He slammed the door.

The ambulance drove down the street. Mira watched until it turned the corner. She felt Jack come up beside her before she glimpsed him out of the corner of her eye. They stood for a moment in silence.

Every part of her body seemed to ache from the knowledge that he'd deliberately misled her. He'd concealed and twisted the truth.

“I expected you to break my heart in the end, Jack, but I never thought it would happen this way,” she whispered. She turned and walked down the street and didn't look back.

M
IRA SLUNG PLATES OF TURKEY, GRAVY, AND
mashed potatoes, the special of the day. Lunchtime at Mike's Diner was in full swing, and Mira should've hit her groove by now.

But Mira doubted she'd ever again find her groove in the diner.

That was gone, along with a wicked, gorgeous, and ultimately deceitful blue-eyed man.

Mira dropped her order off, refilled drinks, and went to clear off a table. Her body went through the motions because her mind was a million miles away.

Annie had been released from the hospital two days after she'd been admitted, and they'd flown home from New York. Mira had gone back to work at Mike's the next day, needing something to occupy her in a major way. They'd hired a part-time waitress to cover her while she'd been gone, but Mike had still given her old job back without a moment's hesitation.

Not that she was enjoying it much.

The world had changed in her eyes during the last few weeks, and she had changed with it. She no longer found the tentative satisfaction she'd once known at the diner. Not now, after she'd tapped her power and found her magick. That made everything else seem awfully pale in comparison.

Or maybe she was just depressed.

Mira picked up a tub of dirty dishes and carted it to the back. After she dropped it off for the dishwasher, she stopped to wash her hands. Plucking a clean dish towel from the cabinet near the sink, she walked out behind the counter to survey the half-full restaurant. She caught sight of the TV on the corner platform above the counter and did a double take. The afternoon news was on and the picture showed the Duskoff Building. She grabbed the remote by the coffeemaker and increased the volume.

Police are still investigating the mysterious death of billionaire W. Anderson Crane, the CEO and president of Duskoff International. Last Saturday, he fell through a window of the Duskoff Building in New York City and plummeted forty stories to his death. Police have no witnesses and no leads in the case; however, suicide is suspected. His adopted son, Stefan Faucheux, reportedly revealed that Crane suffered from advanced bone cancer. Crane was not expected to survive and had purportedly expressed suicidal intentions….

She muted it and put the remote back down, shuddering with the memories of the shattering glass, the scream, and the silence. It was only now that she was beginning to deal with the fact that she'd murdered someone. Even though it had been a case of self-defense, she'd still taken a life.

Would Stefan come after her for what she'd done? She'd seen and felt how powerful he was, and Mira wasn't sure she could stand against him if he did.

The tinkle of the diner door opening caught her attention. The familiar large form of Jack McAllister filled the doorframe. He searched the diner and caught sight of her standing there in the act of drying her hands on the dish towel.

This was the last thing she needed. Sighing, she threw the towel onto the counter.

He looked magnificent, as always, though a bit worn. Stubble darkened his jawline. He wore a pair of jeans, black boots, a black sweater, and his navy peacoat.

Jack took a booth in her section as luck would have it. Or perhaps he'd been watching from his car before he came in so he'd know where to sit.

Mira took care of all her other customers before walking to Jack's booth with a pot of coffee and a cup in her hands.

She set the cup down and filled it, then tossed one packet of sugar down beside it. She didn't have to ask how he took his coffee. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to apologize.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Really? You came to apologize for
lying
to me?”

“I didn't lie. I simply concealed some things.”

“Yeah, that would be another way to say you
lied
, Jack,” she retorted furiously.

“You're right. I lied.” He rubbed his hand over his chin. “I made a mistake, and now I'm paying for it. I just wanted to come and apologize. I know you must hate me now that you know who my father was and I just wanted—”

She set the pot down on the table with a clunk, making coffee slosh back and forth. The family in the next booth over gave her a curious look.

Mira leaned in toward Jack. “I don't care who your father was!
You
were the one I fell for. Your parentage means less than nothing to me. What
does
matter is that you didn't see fit to tell me about it. You didn't trust me enough to reveal that very pertinent bit of information.”

They stared at each other for a long moment.

“I care about you,” she whispered, feeling her eyes well up with tears. She blinked them back. No way was she going to let him see her cry. “But I went through this with Ben, and I can't do it again.”

She picked up the coffeepot and walked away. When she turned back, Jack was gone. He'd left his coffee untouched.

S
HE OPENED THE FRONT DOOR OF HER APARTMENT
and tried to turn on the light in the hallway, but the switch flipped on and off, dead.

“Great,” she groused, pushing her way through the door with heavy plastic grocery bags hanging from her arms and cutting off her circulation. She slammed the door closed with her foot.

Thomas had sent her a check to pay her bills and rent. She'd mailed her payments yesterday, but that hadn't stopped the electricity company from declaring her late and shutting off her power, apparently.

It was cold in the apartment, too.

“Double great,” she muttered.

After tripping and knocking her knee against the kitchen chair and cursing a blue streak, she managed to deposit her bags on the counter. She fished out a few emergency candles from her junk drawer and lit one. By that guttering light, she proceeded to find and light more. Soon her apartment was light enough for her to function without bruising herself.

By candle glow, she put the groceries away. Ripping into a bag of sugar cookies, she snatched one and sank onto her kitchen chair with her coat still on. Munching the cookie, she stared at the flickering flame of the candle on her small table.

Why did he have to come and see her today? She'd been doing fine—okay, she'd been pretending like she'd been doing fine—until he showed up.

She sighed. He probably hadn't told her about being Crane's son because he was ashamed, or because he thought she'd hate him for it. Maybe she'd been too hard on him? Plus, Thomas had said he'd been under orders not to tell her.

Just like Annie had been under instructions from her parents not to tell her about her magick. She'd forgiven Annie, so why not Jack?

The gooshy, hopelessly in-love part of her wanted to use those reasons to forgive Jack for his deception…but she just couldn't let Jack off the hook so easily. Deliberate deceit hit her in a very tender spot. Loving him as much as she did only made it hurt that much worse.

Mira didn't care who'd fathered him. That was beside the point. If he had known her a little better, trusted her a little more, he would've,
should've
, realized that.

Her magick stirred restlessly in her center. She put her hand between her breasts. It had been a few days since she'd used any magick, and it acted like a puppy needing a walk. She pulled a thread and allowed a very soft warm breeze, not strong enough to blow out her candles, to waft through the room. She closed her eyes and enjoyed it stirring her hair.

She was not the person she'd been when she'd left this place with Jack a month ago. Now she was no longer happy to stay in this apartment, work as a waitress, and struggle through college for a job she wasn't sure she wanted.

Her magick was a part of her, and she wanted to use it every day if she could. Thomas had offered her a job at the Coven, and once she got a handle on her emotions where Jack was concerned, she would take it.

The soft, warm, barely breeze heated her apartment enough for Mira to take off her coat. She filled her sink up with water. Life went on. She had men to get over and dishes to wash.

Someone knocked on her door, making her jump. Mira closed her eyes, sensing who had come to visit her right away.

Here she was at the start of everything again, except the man at her door this time had the capability to wound her heart instead of her body.

She fought herself a moment, her hands plunged deeply into the soapy water, and then sighed in defeat. Mira grabbed a dish towel and dried her hands on the way to the door.

“Mira,” Jack said as soon as she opened the door. “I messed up.”

“You can say that again.” She leaned her head against the doorframe, fisting the dish towel in her hands, and gazed up at him. He looked miserable. Ben had never looked that miserable, that repentant.

And Ben had lied for far longer and about far worse things.

Had she overreacted because of her relationship with Ben? Her emotions were so jumbled, she just didn't know. She couldn't keep the emotion out of her eyes, off her face. She wasn't any good at faking that stuff, so she knew he could see her hurt and vulnerability.

“I'm so sorry. I need you. I need you like I need to breathe. I'm here to ask your forgiveness.”

She hesitated a moment, then turned and strode into her apartment, leaving the door open behind her. She went to sit in her tiny living room. The door closed, and Jack's footsteps sounded in the short hallway.

He leaned against the wall separating the living room and hallway and looked miserable. “Can we start over somewhere near the beginning? Do you think you can give me another chance?”

“Jack—” She started and then stopped. Damn it, she loved him. She loved him so much it hurt to have him anywhere near her and not be able to touch him. “You hit me right where I was most defenseless. Don't you understand that? Ben lied to me over and over, kept things from me…secrets.” She shook her head, feeling tears prick her eyes. “I can't do that again. I can't be with a man who does that to me, Jack.”

He walked over and knelt at her feet. “I know, but I am
not
that man. I screwed up by not trusting you enough to think you could handle the knowledge of who I really was, but
I am not Ben
. Please, acknowledge that.”

He
was
nothing like Ben. She felt that at the core of her. Yes, he was a man who loved women, there could be no doubt about that. Yet Mira understood that Jack was not the sort of man to two-time a woman, not the type to casually discard a woman's emotions for his own selfish, sexual desires. The fact that he had come after her for forgiveness and even now knelt at her feet was proof of that. “You're not like Ben, Jack.”

He shook his head. “No, I'm not. I'm not stupid enough to let a woman like you slip through my fingers without a fight.” His voice trembled with emotion. “Damn it, Mira. I never expected this. I never expected to find someone like you. You just…crashed right into me when I least expected it.”

Neither of them said anything for a long moment.

He drew a breath. “I love you, Mira.”

Her breath caught in the back of her throat and a tear slid down her cheek. She hadn't been expecting to hear those words. Mira brushed the teardrop away.

“And, yes, I messed up. I messed up so badly. It's just that I was afraid you'd hate me for being who I am and for being there”—he paused and swallowed hard—“when your mother died that I hid it from you, even knowing that it would hurt you when you eventually found out.”

Emotion caught in her throat, making it hard for her to speak. “Jack, I love who you are, regardless of who your father was. That day you watched my mother die, you were a
child
. Why would I blame you for standing there and letting it happen?”

He looked away from her, but she saw the breathtaking pain and guilt in his light blue eyes before he dropped his gaze.

Mira understood something in that moment. Jack had been carrying this heavy guilt and perceived responsibility in his heart since the day it had happened. That day Jack's soul had been branded with the emotional weight of her mother's death and his inability to keep it from happening. The fact that he'd been a kid was inconsequential. Logic had no place in wounding events like Jack had endured. He blamed himself for her mother's death.

Was it any wonder he'd wanted to keep it from her?

Understanding what he needed, even if Jack didn't, she took his chin and forced his gaze to hers. “I forgive you, Jack. I, as my mother's daughter, absolve you of whatever it is you think you did wrong that day.”

“Mira, don't—”

“
Jack
. Did you hear what I just said?”

“Yes.”

Mira didn't think he'd done anything to merit forgiveness, but, somewhere deep inside him, Jack needed to hear that he had it. “I forgive you for being there. I forgive you for observing my mother's death. I forgive you for not being old enough to do anything about it. I forgive you for being too frightened to try and stop it. I forgive you for being sired by William Crane.”