Witch in the Wind (Bandit Creek Books) (8 page)

When she turned to head back upstairs, she noticed that not all the shelves had been ransacked. The bookshelf that backed onto the stairwell had been mostly spared. Only the top shelf had been cleared but the bottom three lay undisturbed, as if a child had stopped mid tantrum. Had the thief been interrupted?

A visceral force sparked within her core, vibrated with energy, churned and grew. Rage.

Her parents must have come home unexpectedly. They interrupted the thief. That’s why they were killed.

The rage consumed her. Her vision blurred to a red haze. Thoughts and images swirled around in her head, picking up speed as they went. The energy seemed to bubble up from deep inside her and spill into the room. She swallowed hard fighting the bile rising in the back of her throat. Fighting to regain her control.

Sucking in her breath was painful, so she raised her hand to her throat and massaged it with her fingers.

A second breath, a third, and the vise around her lungs loosened a fraction. It took more after that but finally she could draw in a full breath.

She became aware of Busby tugging on her pant leg and howling. She almost thought she could hear him repeating,
Don’t. Don’t. Don’t
. But that was crazy. She dropped her hand to his neck and rubbed thinking to soothe his anxiety. His hackles were standing on edge. She turned fully towards him, looked squarely into his fear-filled eyes but spoke calmly. “It’s okay, baby boy.”

She drew in another deep breath to calm them both and released it slowly. “We’re okay. But we’re going to make sure the bastard pays for what he did.”

She suddenly became aware of muffled rumbling noise over her head. She swung her gaze around the room but that clearly wasn’t the source. It was coming from upstairs. She raced up the steps, two at a time with Busby close on her heels.

T
he acrid smell from the cellar
clung to her a
s she stepped into the main floor. She stopped and looked. The house was in shadows. She had been in the cellar no more than ten minutes. Fifteen minutes tops. Surely it was too early for sunset. Yet the light in the living room and hall had dimmed to gray.

High winds rattled the windows and whistled around the house. What the hell? She glanced at the wall clock.
I
t was barely past six in the
evening
. She hadn’t heard a storm advisory.

Above the chaos of the storm outside, she heard someone hammering on the front door. It sounded like someone was going to beat it down if she didn’t answer it. She strode down the hallway as it rattled in its frame. A muffled voice reached her. Someone was out there. She reached for the doorknob. Before she had a chance to yank on it, a blast of air smacked the door open, knocking her back with a painful crack to her chest, and smashed it into the wall.

Marcus stood framed in the doorway. His long slicker was flapping open. Loose strands of his wavy dark hair whipped his face.

She stood facing him, trying to catch the breath the door had knocked out of her. His mouth was moving but she couldn’t make out his words after the crash of the door and the noise from windstorm outside. She rubbed her ears with the palms of her hands trying to hear what he was saying.

“Avy. Stop the storm. You’re going to bring down a rock slide,” he shouted.

Marcus had stopped to check on his patients at the vet
clinic when the storm hit out of a clear blue sky. With no warning, it roared over Crow Mountain and barreled into the town. And Marcus had known it wasn’t natural. It was Avy.

Just as her door opened, he felt a small vibration rumble through the mountain. Anger scalded his veins as he stepped inside ready to get up in her face and order her to put a stop to this.

Then he looked at her more closely and took an instinctive step back. Her face told him he’d already startled her and confirmed she was having some sort of melt down. But it wasn’t the witchy tantrum he’d expected. Her aura pulsed a deep royal blue, dark as midnight with a thick edge of blood red. It throbbed like a heartbeat and shimmered with Guardian power. Her lips showed none of the petulance he’d seen from young witchlings in The Otherland when their emotions overrode control of their magic. Hell’s bells. He had to stop her before she brought the whole mountain down on their heads.

Her startling blue eyes locked on his. “What?”

He tried to speak more slowly, calmly. To reason with her. “You’re going to start a rock slide. You have to stop this.”

She blinked and shook her head. “Stop what? I’m not doing anything.”

Her expressive face hid none of her emotions. Through the shock of his sudden appearance, he could also see traces of confusion, sorrow, the remnants of anger. She didn’t know she was doing it.
S
he didn’t know she had magical powers. But even if he was wrong, it no longer mattered. There was no more time to be careful or delicate. What did she need to know to handle this? The bare bones.

He backed her further into the hall and slammed the door against the wind. Something crashed in the yard. It sounded like a patio table hammered into a cluster of trees. The metal squealed as the wind pummelled it against the sturdy tree trunks. With a final wrenching protest, the table freed itself and bounced across the yard and away. Marcus held Avy firmly and tried again. “Avy. You’re a witch.”

At first, he wasn’t sure she’d heard him over the roar of the tempest outside. Suddenly her face transformed from shock to anger. Mad was better than stunned, he thought. Maybe. She shook his hands off her shoulders with one sharp jerk. “I know that,” she spat at him. “My parents raised me in their religion—Wicca.”

He couldn’t stop his own voice from rising. “Not a religion,” he growled leaning so close to her face that he could smell her perfume. “Magic!”

She stepped back as if he’d hit her. Her mouth was open but no words emerged.

He heard another voice. It seemed to be in the room and in his head at the same time.
Doesn’t know.

Marcus glanced around and then down for the source.

Pushed up against Avy’s leg, the familiar was staring up at him with jet black eyes. Willing him to hear.
Doesn’t know. Doesn’t know.

Goddess protect us. Only the witch who called the storm could stop it. And Avy didn’t even know she’d done it.

It was hard to keep the edge of panic out of his voice as more debris whistled past the nearest window in the living room. A lawn chair. Closely followed by a garden umbrella. He had to make her understand. Quickly.

Marcus took a calming breath and, gently this time, took her hand. “Avy, you are an elemental witch, as were your parents. Your magic is out of control. You have to stop this storm.”

He could see realization sweep across her expression. Somewhere deep in her bones she must have known the magic was there, hiding in her very marrow. She knew what she was in her heart, if not in her mind.

Her fingers tightened on his hand. He could hardly hear her words over the howling gale outside. “I don’t know how.” Her lip trembled and her eyes watered. “I was just upset.”

Do not cry, he wanted to yell at her, but he didn’t. Instead, he kept his voice even and spoke quietly. “It’s okay, I’ll help you.” But how? He racked his brain. He was guessing she’d never had an initiation, the threshold moment when a child transitions into a magical young adult. What the hell had her parents been thinking? Not preparing her. Not training her. No time to worry about that now. He slid his hands up to her shoulders again and massaged. To calm her? Or himself?

They both swung around when something beat on the window. A slim crooked shadow showed through the pane. A branch torn off a nearby tree.

Marcus squeezed Avy’s shoulders to regain her attention. “You’ve never used your magic, have you?”

Avy shook her head. No.

“Okay. Something focused your magic to call up a storm with this much force.” He glanced down and noticed the velvet sack still clutched in her hand. He sucked in his breath. He could guess what was inside.

“Where did you get that?” He put his hand on the box but didn’t try to yank it from her. He’d likely get zapped by it if he did.

She glanced down and seemed surprised to be holding it. “I found it in the cellar.” He could hear the dread in her voice. “What is it?”

“A talisman. It’s protecting something important. Did you look inside?”

This time she nodded affirmative and found her voice. “It’s just an old book.”

“Damnation,” he said. “It’s probably your family’s grimoire.”

She raised her eyebrows.

He glanced over his shoulder to see the dust and leaves obscuring the view. She knew so little. How could he get her up to speed when the mountain was ready to crumble? He tried again. “Every magical family collects their wisdom in a grimoire and then passes it on to the next generation.” She nodded understanding, so he continued. “Did you read it?”

“No” she said, “I haven’t even opened it yet.”

His tension loosened a notch. “That’s good, Avy. It means we don’t have to figure out a particular spell to stop this.” He pulled her by the hand into the living room and stood her in the centre.

The familiar immediately followed but Marcus stopped him. “You’d better watch the door, Busby. We don’t want any mortals stumbling in on us.” he said. In a lower voice Marcus added, “And if I fail, go to The Other
land
for help.” The
f
amiliar nodded and turned back.

Marcus raced into the kitchen, banged cupboard doors open and closed until he found a box of salt. Back in the living room, he walked a circle around her letting the salt tip out as he went. Then he stepped into the circle with her and faced her. He mumbled, “It’s a wonder you didn’t kill yourself,” as he took both of her cold hands into his.

“Avy, you need to focus on your magic and draw the storm back to you.”

Her eyes shot up to his. Terror.

“I promise it won’t hurt you.” He squeezed her hands. “It’s a natural part of you. You just need to call it back.”

If only, he thought. A newly transformed witch might build up to a storm like this over years of training, but Avy had to suck it back on her first try.

As long as I can ground her, I can take most of the hit.
He hoped.

He planted his feet more firmly on the hardwood floor and pictured his family tree. The many branches reached around him, enclosing them in their protective embrace. The roots thrust into the floor. They pushed through to
his element,
the earth
,
beneath
. He sent them deeper
, growing and spreading outward.

From the front hall, he could hear the familiar.
Please Goddess, Please Goddess, Please Goddess.

Avy’s eyes snapped open and her head spun to where the dog sat in the hall just beyond the edge of the room. She mouthed,
Busby?

Great, now she can hear her familiar. Marcus shook her hand sharply to get her attention. “Avy, you have to focus on this. Close your mind to everything else.”

She nodded and closed her eyes again.

“Okay, let’s take a slow, deep breath.”

They drew in a breath in unison and then released it. Hers was uneven. He felt her fingers spasm in his.

“And another.”

Her inhalation was steadier this time. The wisps of her hair began to move as if disturbed by the air around her. A tiny spark shot out whenever two strands touched. Her aura radiated all around her like a perfect, multi-hued sunset.

“And again.”

Finally, her hands relaxed in his and the tension in her body eased. He could feel her magic vibrating like a harp string.

“Avy, can you feel your magic? Look inside yourself for the thread that connects you to the storm.”

Her hands twitched again. She was concentrating so hard deep creases outlined her eyes. Her mouth was a thin line against her teeth.

Then he felt the tug and a small smile slipped across her lips. “I’ve got it.” She seemed almost triumphant. He didn’t want to tell her that was the easy part.

“Now pull the thread back to you. Tell the wind to ease its anger and return to you in calm.”

She stood stone still, her hands
slack
in his. He felt a power surge jump between them. It was like holding a live wire, jolting him. His heart pounded in his chest but he focused on drawing the storm’s power in.
H
e should be able to use his body as a conduit.
E
arth would absorb the storm with harm to none. If it ran through Avy instead, it might short-circuit her nervous system. Maybe even kill her.

He threw more energy into the protective circle he’d drawn around them, making sure none of his energy leaped across their joined hands. He didn’t want to distract her. If he interfered with the delicate thread between Avy and the storm’s center, it could break and send the storm spinning.

Suddenly, a window in the kitchen broke, sending glass clattering into the sink. The window nearest them went next tossing the tree branch onto the sofa. The living room swirled with wind and leaves. Pillows flew off the chairs, papers fluttered in all directions. The familiar howled. Marcus felt the gusts pummelling his protection shield.
Holding it with
every ounce of his strength
, he felt the storm
su
ck his energy like a starving calf at its mother's teat
.

Then, suddenly, everything stopped. Absolute silence filled the room.
Outside the broken window, he could hear the slightest rustle of branches.

Well, that went better than expected, he thought
, and r
eleased his protection shield
.

He sensed the Earth shudder under the weight of the magic he’d poured into her. Then she settled.
He wished he could recover as quickly.

“Avy?” He shot a look at her. “Are you all right?”

“I can hear the air move around the eaves of the house,” she said. Her eyes were still closed but her face had become luminous. “It feels so light and gentle.”

“That’s you, Avy,” he said. “You are the air.”

Her eyelids flickered open. Beneath them, her eyes shone a deep azure blue, like the brightest summer sky. They were unfocused. She seemed to be looking through him.

He
stepped closer to her. He rubbed her upper arms and scanned her face.

“How did you know it was me?” she asked.

“I felt your magic as soon as you released it,” he said.

“Will this happen every time I get mad?” she asked.

“Unless you learn to control it,” he said.

How much power has she got? he wondered. She wielded a storm big enough to bring down Crow Mountain. Without training. Hell, without even trying.

She looked up at him, fear shimmering behind her eyes. “I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

He placed his hand gently against her cheek. “We’ll make sure you don’t, little witch.”

She leaned her face into his hand for a moment with her eyes closed. Without looking at him, she asked, “How did you get here so fast?”

He stiffened and withdrew his hand.

Avy opened her eyes again and looked at him. He could see the shock was wearing off. Her mind was catching up with everything that had happened. He waited for the penny to drop.

Her dazed expression sharpened. “You helped me stop the storm,” she said.

“Yes,” he said. She was calm as a breath of fresh air. He wished he felt the same.

“You’re a witch, too.” She made it a statement rather than a question.

He winced. “A warlock actually.”