MIRA AWOKE TO THE LOW SOUND OF VOICES AND the motion of a vehicle. Her body thrummed with pain, especially where her hair had been ripped from her head. Her chest hurt too. Every time she drew a breath, it burned.
Merely opening her eyes ached, so she closed them again after glimpsing the interior of what appeared to be a limo. There were others in the car, but she could sense Jack next to her and decided she was safe. Physical discomfort precluded any further musing on the subject of her personal security.
Strong hands eased her up and cradled her against a chest. She winced at the movement. “Jack?” she murmured. She knew the feel of those hands, that chest.
“It’s me. It’s okay,” he whispered. He brushed the hair away from her forehead. “You keep passing out on me. We have to figure out how to keep you from doing that.”
“Tell her to stop rupturing her magick. That’ll help,” said a woman from somewhere in the interior of the automobile.
Jack placed his palm over Mira’s forehead. The skin he touched grew warmer. The pain slowly leaked away. “Ingrid,” he sighed, “if your men had been there a little sooner, she would not have been forced to do what she did. You know Thomas isn’t going to be very happy about this mess.” He placed a hand between her breasts, and the pain eased there as well.
“Not even Thomas foresaw the Duskoff being able to crack those wards. It must have been their kidnapped air witch who tipped them off to the move. They pulled out all the stops to break in before you left for the airport. Crane wants her badly.”
“I’m not talking about the break-in. I’m talking about your men’s inability to reach us in time.” Jack’s voice trembled with threat, and his body grew noticeably warmer with his carefully restrained anger. “If Mira hadn’t pulled that magick, I could be dead and she might be gone.”
Ingrid, whoever she was, fell silent, clearly chastened.
The pain in Mira’s head and body receded enough for her to be able to function, thanks to Jack. She opened her eyes groggily and struggled to sit up. Jack was bruised and battered. A bit of dried blood marked his forehead and he held his right hand as though it hurt.
The woman, Ingrid, was slim and dressed in a charcoal gray suit and sensible heels. Her ankles were crossed primly and a pair of stylish black glasses teetered on her heart-shaped face. Mira couldn’t tell how long her blonde hair was since it was pulled up severely in a French twist. She would’ve been pretty were it not for her scowl.
Two men sat on either side of Ingrid, both hunky and wearing black. What was the deal with these guys in black? Mira recognized them as two of the men who’d burst into the apartment right after—
She put a hand to her temple, remembering. “I killed them, didn’t I?”
Jack put his arm around her shoulders. “Mira—”
“Wait a minute.” She pulled away from him and held up a hand. “I don’t want to talk about that right now. I don’t even want to think about that right now.” She needed time to digest what had happened.
“The cleanup of that incident is under my authority,” Ingrid said. “I have Coven witches sifting through the mess. We don’t know what became of the warlocks who attacked you yet.”
She glared at Ingrid. Had she not just said she didn’t want to talk about it? Incident. Cleanup. Mess. She’d killed people, and this woman talked about it like she’d dropped the milk carton on the kitchen floor.
Jack sighed. “We’re on our way to the airport now. Once we’re at the Coven, the Duskoff won’t be able to touch you.”
Mira put her hand back to her temple. “Does it hurt so much because I pulled a lot of power?” Her body still ached despite Jack’s healing, and she felt nauseous.
“Yes. Think about your magick as a garden, Mira,” answered Jack. “You tend it carefully and it nourishes you. Abuse it, yank big handfuls out of it, and there are consequences. When you take as much power as you did in the way you took it, it can make you sick. Your magick needs time to replenish itself.”
“Where does it come from? The magick, I mean?”
“That’s a question for the philosophers at the Coven, Mira,” answered Ingrid. She rolled her eyes. “They’ll discuss it with you endlessly if you inquire.”
Jack sighed in irritation. “Mira, meet Ingrid Harris. She’s Thomas’s right hand.”
Mira massaged her temples and glanced at him. “Does that make you his left hand?”
His mouth twitched. “Something like that.”
“You’re a very powerful witch, Mira,” said Ingrid. “You’ll get the training you need in Chicago, and once you’ve got your magick on a leash”—Ingrid smiled—“Crane will be the one running from you.”
Mira moved her hand from her temple to look at the woman. “I would really like to see that,” she replied with vehemence she felt to the tips of her toes.
Ingrid’s smile widened.
The limo came to a stop in front of Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport, and the driver opened the door. Light poured into the dark interior of the car. Mira squinted while her pupils adjusted and shivered as cold wind rushed in to fill the warm space.
“Have a good flight,” said Ingrid. “I’ll be traveling to Chicago in about a week. See you then.”
Jack only shot Ingrid a dirty look. There was definitely some tension there. She wondered for a moment what kind. Was it sexual or professional? Both? Then she pushed the thought from her mind. It was none of her business.
After saying goodbye to Ingrid, she gathered her winter coat, which someone had laid on the seat beside her, and climbed out of the vehicle. Jack followed.
Mira quickly shrugged her coat on against the frigid temperature while the driver set their luggage on the curb beside them. Yay for only destroying Jack’s living room. The bedrooms, and their clothing, had been fine, apparently.
Jack spoke to the driver, then turned to her. His face was truly a mess, now that she could see him clearly in the light. “Oh, Jack,” she said in a rush of breath that clouded white in the cold air.
He’d changed his clothes before they’d left the apartment and had wiped some of the blood away, but his lip was split and his left eye and side of his face was one big bruise.
“Warlock had a wicked right hook,” he grumbled as he picked up their bags and headed into the airport.
After they’d checked their bags in—they were booked first class, to Mira’s surprise—and navigated through security and the shops on the other side, Mira yanked him into the women’s bathroom.
“Ah…Mira?”
“You’re bleeding again, Jack,” she answered, pulling him toward the bank of sinks along one wall and garnering both amused and annoyed looks from the women in the bathroom as they went. “You can’t go sit down in first class looking like you went toe-to-toe with a badass flight attendant to get in.”
“I fly first class looking like this a lot,” he growled at her. Boy, he was grumpy.
She ignored him and wet a piece of paper towel under the faucet. “Just humor me, okay?”
He winced as she wiped away some of the blood on his lower lip. “They have first aid in Chicago? Some kind of doctor there?”
“Of course. There’s a full staff of doctors and nurses, ones who don’t ask questions.”
She moved to a cut near his hairline. “I shouldn’t have asked. They probably know you well, don’t they, Jack?”
He grabbed her hand, stilling her movement. “I won’t see you much when we get to Chicago.” He paused, searching her eyes. “My part of this will be done once we cross the Coven’s threshold. You’ll be safe, and I’ll go on to another job.”
She masked the sudden stab of melancholy she felt by tossing the paper towel in the trash. What a stupid reaction to have! She cussed herself out in her head. The last thing she wanted right now was to get into a relationship. So they’d slept together a few times. Big deal. It had been great, but they were both adults. Mira was old enough to understand it had been purely physical. Fine. He’d told her he wasn’t the man for her right in the beginning. She’d known something like this was coming.
Still, it pinched.
“Okay,” she replied with a tight, little smile. “And here I thought for sure you were going to ask me to marry you.”
“Mira—”
She rolled her eyes. “Joking.” Mira inspected her makeupless face in the mirror, ensured she didn’t have a bald spot on the back of her head, and grimaced at her reflection. Finished, she turned on her heel and walked out of the bathroom. “I wouldn’t marry you anyway,” she called over her shoulder.
“Why not?” he asked as he caught up to her.
“Well, you’re great in bed, I’ll give you that much. The rest of you is kind of a mess, though.”
“Thanks.”
“Don’t take it personally. I wouldn’t marry anyone again, ever.” She glanced at him. “I think I learned my lesson the first time. Marriage and I don’t get along.”
“Don’t blame the institution of marriage. Blame your imbecile ex-husband.”
Mira shrugged. “He wasn’t an imbecile. He was a philanderer.” She snorted. “Oh, sorry, I mean he was a sex addict. That’s the clinical term for his affliction. He just couldn’t help himself. Poor man.”
“No. He was an imbecile,” Jack ground out.
Mira stopped in the middle of the concourse. She turned to face him. A swarm of people flowed around them. “Why do you keep saying that?”
Jack’s answer came swift. “Because only an idiot would let you go.”
She stared at him for a heartbeat and then said, “Then what does that make you?” Mira bit her tongue, wincing at the words that had rushed out of her mouth without her permission, then pushed past him toward the gate. Her face felt hot and a lump had formed in her throat. Why had she said that? Stupid, stupid!
Jack stood alone for a moment before following her.
They found seats at the gate and fell into a silence. Mira kicked herself over and over for speaking before thinking. Her words clearly displayed the fact that, despite trying to feel otherwise, she was not okay sleeping with Jack without some kind of emotional commitment.
She wished she could say that she was a sexually liberated, cosmopolitan woman who was able to have casual affairs and then go on with her life, but apparently she just wasn’t made that way.
Or maybe she cared about Jack.
She glanced at him sitting next to her. He had his hands clasped in his lap and looked like he was a million miles away, lost in some strange place in his head where she couldn’t follow. Jack was a man with secrets, ones he obviously had no desire to confide. He’d been right. He wasn’t the man for her. Of course, since when did common sense have anything at all to do with emotion?
Mira worried her bottom lip between her teeth and concentrated on the empty seat opposite her. Yes, she cared about him. She’d just have to get over it.
The flight attendant called for first class to board. She and Jack handed over their tickets and settled themselves into two comfortable seats—Mira by the window—and watched everyone else get on while juggling their carry-ons and looking generally harassed.
Mira snuggled into the seat, leaned her head against the window, and closed her eyes. She’d only ever been on a plane once before, when she and Annie had gone to Florida for vacation when she’d been twelve. She’d definitely never flown first class before, but she thought she could get used to it pretty quick.
A horrible thought occurred to her, and she opened her eyes. “Uh, Jack? Could an air witch take down a plane?”
He flipped through one of the in-flight magazines. “Yeah, sure, a powerful one could.” Jack glanced at her. “You could.”
Mira swallowed hard.
Jack tucked the magazine in the pocket in front of him. “But don’t worry about Crane trying it. He needs you alive.”
“Ingrid mentioned Crane had a kidnapped air witch?”
He grunted. “A man named Marcus. He’s a hostage. He’s not powerful enough to defend himself, which makes him pretty much anyone’s meat. Crane caught him, drugged him, maybe broke him. We’re not sure. The Coven has tried to extricate him on several occasions without success. Marcus has enough power to hear things on the air, but doesn’t have enough ability to raise much more than a strong breeze. Marcus couldn’t take down a plane.”
“Marcus was the reason the men broke in this morning?”
“We’re betting there was a crack in the warding of the phone call Thomas gave me to let me know to bring you in. Marcus heard some of the conversation through it, told Crane, and Crane put the thumbscrews to his wardbreakers.”
“Can the wardbreakers break into the Coven?”
Jack shrugged. “The Coven is not impenetrable, but it’s pretty damn close. Even if they could get in, it wouldn’t be in their best interests.” He shot her a lopsided grin. “All the air witches of any talent, the few of them there are, work for us.”
“But they can still get in,” she confirmed.
“Theoretically, yes, but it would be nearly impossible for it to go undetected.”
Mira bit her bottom lip and turned her attention to the tarmac outside her window. Images of Jack’s apartment after she’d exploded her magick flashed through her mind, and she pushed them away. She still wasn’t ready to deal with the fact that she’d killed six men. Evil men. Duskoff men. She had to remind herself of that. Jack was right; it had been self-defense.
And she hadn’t meant to do it. Not consciously, anyway. But somewhere in her mind had lain the desire to see them dead in order to protect herself and Jack…and to give payback for her parents’ murders, perhaps.
She leaned her head against the window and stared outside, sorrow choking her throat.
THE CHICAGO AIRPORT WAS LOUD, CROWDED, AND huge. Jack and Mira were met in baggage claim by a brunette Coven witch named Belinda, who was tall, lovely, and far too friendly with Jack, in Mira’s opinion.
Another limo picked them up and ferried them away from the airport. They battled their way through construction and headed out to the northern suburbs. Mira had never been to Chicago, and it seemed she wouldn’t get to see the downtown area now. Frankly, the landscape outside the limo’s window looked a lot like Minnesota.
They’d been near silent for the entire trip. When Jack’s cell phone rang, it startled her.
After a series of hostile “yeahs” and “uh huhs,” Jack snapped his phone closed. “That was Ingrid. Good news, you didn’t kill any of the intruders this morning. You just injured them pretty damn good. Ingrid’s team picked them out of the debris, and they’re being treated by a local doctor.”
Relief swept through her. She closed her eyes for a moment, feeling a little giddy, and took a cleansing breath. “So, they’re being treated by a local…witch doctor?”
“Cute. Yes, the doctor is a witch.”
“What are they going to do with them?”
“I imagine they’ll drug them up enough so they can’t use their magick defensively and eventually bring them to the Coven. They’re captives now.” Jack rubbed a hand across his jaw, which was dark with five o’clock shadow. “Be nice to know why Crane wants to raise that demon. Maybe these guys know.”
Mira took a moment to respond. “So, you’ll torture the information out of them, in other words.”
Jack shot her a stormy look. “Look, I know you’ve got some high morals, but we’re fighting a war here, Mira, and you’re the spoils.”
She pursed her lips together. “And you don’t have very many morals, do you, Jack?”
He glanced away, stared out the window at the industrial area they were passing through. “I do what needs to be done. That’s my job.” He turned his gaze back to her. “And I’ll do anything to protect you, Mira.” His voice shook slightly. “Anything. Understand?”
“Why? Why do you care? You barely know me. What aren’t you telling me, Jack?”
Mira could practically feel the stone wall go up between them. He didn’t answer her. He only turned his head and stared out the window.
Fine. He could keep his secrets. For now.
The limo turned down a small road marked Private Property. They drove through a set of towering metal gates and past the little sentry building that stood there. The long, twisting road they traveled after that must have been a couple of miles long. Tall trees shaded the way and beautiful, parklike grounds stretched off on both sides.
They finally breached the canopy of trees and pulled through yet another set of gates, into a circular driveway in front of a monstrously huge mansion.
“Welcome to the Coven, Mira,” said Jack before he got out of the limo.
The driver came around the side and helped her from the car. She refused to look at Jack as she climbed out.
She tried to take her bags from the limo’s trunk, but the driver wouldn’t let her, saying he’d bring them to her rooms. Feeling like minor royalty all of a sudden, she followed Jack up the stone stairs and into the house.
Mira couldn’t quite suppress her gasp of surprise as they entered the gleaming marble foyer. Apparently, the Coven had done fairly well for itself. This place was like something out of Architectural Digest, all vaulted ceilings, marble, and glass.
A tall man in his midforties with premature salt-and-pepper hair emerged through the doorway on her right and walked toward them. “Jack,” he greeted warmly. The man’s smile faded the closer he got. “What happened to you?”
“I got the bad end of a fight this morning.” Jack shook his hand and turned to Mira. “Mira, this is Douglas. He manages the house. Douglas, this is the witch causing all the activity lately.”
“Nice to meet you, Mira. I’ve heard much about you. We all have.”
Oh, good. She managed to smile and shake his hand. It seemed she tasted salt for a moment when their hands touched. Warm salty water, like the sea. Was Douglas a water witch, perhaps? Interesting. She’d always had a little ESP, was it growing stronger now that she’d tapped her magick?
“Thomas said to meet him in the library,” said Douglas. “Then he’ll let you get some rest. I hear you’ve both had a busy morning.”
“What kind of a mood is he in?” asked Jack.
Douglas smiled. “Impatient. Grouchy. Opinionated.”
“What’s new?” Jack glanced toward the door.
Douglas gave a short laugh. “Well, I’ll leave you two to it then.” He gave Mira a little salute and a wink and then strolled out the other door.
What was with this guy, Thomas? Was he some kind of ogre or what? It seemed like everyone, even big bad Jack, was wary of this guy. Although Mira supposed a man didn’t get to head the Coven without being somewhat the alpha dog on the block.
Jack walked toward the door he’d glanced at a moment ago. Mira followed him.
New books, old books, books of every conceivable shape and size were stacked to the tops of shelves that stretched as high as the vaulted ceiling. The far wall was a mass of floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over the landscaped grounds. Several desks stood in the room with computer equipment.
The rest of the room was decorated in leather and expensive wood furniture. A wet bar stood along the wall to her left, in between the bookshelves. A library with a bar. Well, perhaps one needed a drink now and again while perusing the stacks.
The room was empty save for one man. He stood at the far end of the room, looking out the window. He wore a gorgeous gray suit. Mira didn’t know a whole lot about men’s clothing, but it looked expensive. His shoulders were broad, powerful, and his long, silky black hair was tied at his nape.
The man turned and walked toward them. This was Thomas Monahan? She’d been expecting someone much older…and much less attractive. Mira stared because, damn, he was worth staring at.
He was built like Jack—powerful—and he and Jack were both good-looking enough to make Mira’s tongue tie itself into a knot, but that was where the similarities ended.
Jack was the type to work independently, someone who didn’t play well with others, but Thomas moved with the presence of a man who knew how to lead. Or that’s the impression Mira had, anyway, while watching him walk toward them. He seemed to exude the perfect qualities—strength and charisma—to govern people.
“Welcome back,” Thomas said to Jack as he approached.
“Glad to be here.” They shook hands and Monahan pulled him into one of those manly back-clapping embraces that always made Mira snicker.
Monahan turned to her. “Mira, it’s so nice to finally meet you. My name is Thomas Monahan.”
She took his hand and shook it. “Nice to meet you, too.” She paused. “Thank you for all you’ve done for me.”
“I think Jack has done far more. He’s the one who’s risked his life.”
“Yes, I—you’re right.” Perhaps for the first time Mira truly realized that. She turned to him. “Thank you, Jack,” she said with sincerity in her voice. Even though it seemed so paltry to just say thanks.
A muscle in Jack’s jaw locked. He didn’t look at her. “Don’t give me your gratitude. Please.”
Mira winced at the cold tone of Jack’s voice and the way he rebuffed her. She couldn’t quite mask her expression. Too much had happened that day, and she had no energy left for dissembling. She wasn’t very good at it anyway.
“In any case, you saved my ass this morning. Not the other way around,” Jack ground out without looking at her.
Yes, but were it not for Jack, her ass would have been grass on the night the Duskoff broke her door in. Why couldn’t he take a simple thank you from her? She couldn’t keep the hurt and confusion from her face.
Thomas looked from Jack to Mira, his mouth tightening into a displeased line. “Jack, you look like you might need a few stitches. I know Doctor Oliver is in the house. Why don’t you go find her? I need to talk with Mira alone anyway.”
Jack nodded, glanced at Mira, and left the room, closing the large wooden doors on his way out. Mira shivered, feeling a tingle of dread at his absence. He was well and truly gone now. She felt that. Mira drew her arms over her chest, swallowing a sudden lump in her throat.
“Are you hungry, Mira? Thirsty?”
“I’m fine. Just a little tired.”
“I’m sure you are.” He motioned for her to sit down in a nearby chair. He lowered himself into the opposite one. “Ingrid called and filled me in on what happened this morning. There have been lots of changes for you lately.”
That was an understatement. “Considering I didn’t believe in magick a week and a half ago, I’d say so.”
His full mouth twisted into a smile. “You seem to have come to it very well. You just need some instruction so you can harness it and use it effectively, responsibly. Annie was loyal to your parents, and it’s not for us to say whether they were right or wrong in their decision to keep you from us.”
“You mean to keep my magick from me.” She couldn’t help the note of bitterness in her voice.
He shrugged. “If she hadn’t been so loyal, you would have been trained from childhood. You have much catching up to do, but from what I’ve heard so far you’re a fast learner.”
“I’m worried about Annie, Thomas. Jack said you were taking care of her?”
“I asked her to come to live at the Coven for awhile as our guest, but she refused. She told me she won’t let those ‘barbarian warlocks’ make her change her life and that she has a store to run.”
Mira smiled. That sounded like Annie. “That craft store is her world.”
“Because she refused our protection here at the Coven, we sent a couple of witches to guard her for awhile, and we sent some excellent wardweavers to bind her home and business against the Duskoff.”
Mira nodded, feeling somewhat better. She would give Annie a call later.
He regarded her with eyes that seemed as black as his hair. They were beautiful in a wicked, obsidian kind of way. The man truly did look like a witch. Mira wondered if there was any hint of color in those dark orbs anywhere. Jack had said he was an earth witch, but she wasn’t quite sure what the magick of earth entailed.
“I have one more change for you, Mira,” he went on.
She tipped her head to the side, letting her gaze travel over the handsome, yet rough-hewn lines of his face. Aside from his carriage, which was the most arresting thing about him, Thomas possessed a unique masculine beauty with his dusky skin, long black hair, and dark eyes. She loved his wide cheekbones and full, sensual-looking mouth. His mouth seemed at odds with the rest of the impression he made, something soft and lush on a man carved from granite.
Were all witches gorgeous? Was it some prerequisite for a male to have magick that he also be sexual-fantasy inducing? She wasn’t as attracted to Thomas as she’d been to Jack—that had been knee-meltingly strong, and yet…
“I’m your first cousin.”