Lizzie looked worn out and more tired than he’d ever seen her, but she also looked happier. She tugged her hair back over her shoulder, her face a rosy hue in the faint gray light. Eli took the seat Cia had vacated. Silent, he looked out over the inn grounds and vineyard, thinking again about where they might situate an oversized garage. And a permanent helo landing site. Not looking at Liz. Giving her time to think about what she might want to say. He knew what he wanted. He wanted to take her to hisroom and keep her occupied for a week or two. But it was too soon for most of the things he was thinking about now, considering he had ignored her for a month. He probably owed her an apology for being an ass. A small smile fought its way to his mouth, and he let it. He said, “You said you wanted us to sleep together last night.”
“Yeeeah,” she said, drawing out the word, seeming to have gotten over Cia’s teasing comment. “I’m too tired to even think about that now. But I have to say, fighting a demon and a pack of werewolves was pretty cool as a makeup date for you walking out on me. You almost kept up with me, so I was impressed.”
“Almost?”he said, his tone disbelieving. Ignoring the “walking out on me” comment.
“Well, maybe better than almost. Your compass and Wi-Fi thingy came in useful. But you didn’t have much use for the guns until the werewolves showed up. And by then we had help. All the crystals and stones and amulets were the things that kept us alive. You know.Magic. Woo-woostuff.”
He let the full smile free. “ ‘Woo-woo stuff,’ ” he repeated. “Okay. I’ll give you that. Your way kept us alive. Your magic was the better weapon.” Eli held out his hand. Waited while she stared at it. He was just about ready to pull it back when she placed hers into his and interlaced her fingers through his. She was still cold. She’d used a lot of life-force in the battle. She’d kept them alive until help came. Eli had a feeling she would have kept fighting until she died from the effort.
He tightened his hand on hers. With every self-protective instinct screaming, he stood, lifted Lizzie onto his lap, and snuggled her in his arms. To help her get warm.Right.He was in trouble and he knew it.
He had thought that dating a witch with no fighting skills would be hard. Maybe he’d been wrong. Maybe it was... MaybeLizziewas worth the risk. “So, steak soon? In town? Nice place with silver and crystal?”
“Nah. I’m more of a campfire or outdoor grill kinda gal. One without demons and werewolves,” Liz said. She rocked her head back to see the sunrise better. He followed her gaze. The sky was every shade of pink and orange possible.
She said, “That was the worst date ever.”
“I thought it was terrific. I got to kill werewolves.”
She chuckled, her body moving against his. It was the best thing he’d felt all night. The sun peeked over the distant hills and slowly rose until it was a golden ball nestled in hazy pink clouds.
Softly he repeated, “Yeah. You do know how to show a former Ranger a good time.”
The Ties That Bind
First published inDirty Deeds, an anthology by Pen and Page Publishing (2021).
Bedelia
The alarm on the outer perimeter dinged. Something had just crossed the basicwarningworking about fifty feet from the house. Bedelia finished pouring her nightly chamomile infusion and waited on the next set of alarms to see if it was the small herd of does that had been moving through the area at dusk. Or an owl. There were owls nesting nearby. One evening, just after the repairs to the house from the recent magical firebombing, the male owl attacked a rabbit exactly atop the middle warning and she nearly expired at the continuous clangor.
As she waited, she added honey to the chamomile infusion. Stirred. Sipped. Patient. Tired of the yard work Mama had demanded all evening. She wanted lilies next summer, and the bulbs had to go just, “There, and there, and... no! Not there! Move ’em!”
Bedelia’s back hurt, but the yard looked great and—
The central warddingeda distinctive set of soft notes, identifying the uninvited visitor who was approaching through the woods in back. Bedelia’s heart leaped. She frowned. Sipped again and calmed her heart rate. Once he was close enough, this particular visitor could hear her heart speed or slow and smell her reactions of any kind. And there was no way she would allow him that satisfaction.
But... dear heavens, she had missed him.
She thought about slipping into the half bath and brushing her teeth before applying lipstick as she would have done forty years ago. Or even twenty years ago. But she was too old for that nonsense. Instead, Bedeliawalked down the hallway and checked to see that her mother was deeply asleep. Mama was older than dirt—her description, not Bedelia’s—but she was still mentally sharp and agile, even at a 102 years of age, and her magic hadn’t waned at all. Mama was dangerous when riled, but she went to bed with the sun and rose at dawn, and once asleep, could sleep through hail and lightning storms, perimeter alarms going off, and even this visitor. But Mama had a particular distaste for this one and had no hesitation in telling him so. To keep the peace, and for a moment of privacy, Bedelia was glad Mama was asleep, lying flat on her back and snoring at the ceiling.
Bedelia closed her mama’s door softly. She tried to pass it by but stopped in the half bath after all. She brushed her teeth and ran her hands through her short hair. Silver curls sprang up and caught the bright light. Her eyes were shining blue and had lost none of their beauty. But. She glanced down at herself and the comfy housedress and slippers. Too much cleavage showing. Crepey skin. She was so damn old and the extra weight...
Helikedthe extra weight. Always had.Damn it.
She slid off the old-lady slippers, took in her freshly painted toenails—red, his favorite color—damn it again.She sighed, called herself an old fool, and went to the back sliding doors. She stood, silhouetted by the bright kitchen lights, arms loose, body relaxed, and no expression on her face. She didn’t turn on the outside lights. Didn’t need to. She could see him outlined in the red glow that announced a vampire visitor, behind the middle ward of three, that one ahedge of thorns. He was watching her. He always watched her, any time they were near.
He had never been to this house. She had no idea he even knew where she lived now. His last visit was years ago, at her own home, before she had rented it out and moved in with her mama to take care of her. She had put up the exact same wards here as at her own home, and, clearly, he remembered the protocol of each. If he was here, after all this time and after what happened with her now-dead daughter, Evangelina, it wasn’t to chitchat. There must be some important reason.
A frisson of danger climbed up her spine on hooked spider feet.
Bedelia reached to the counter beside the glass doors, made a show of picking up her amulet necklace, and slid it over her head. The focal nestledbetween her breasts, a delicate faceted labradorite with a flash of red and purple. Bedelia was that rare breed of witch who could draw on multiple elements. She could use some stones, some types of wood, and plants. She could collect the power of strong air currents, and when the moon was high, she could recharge any amulet with its power. She was dangerous. He knew it, but she wanted to remind him. She leaned a hip against the counter, picked up her cup of chamomile, and sipped. Waiting. Just in case that danger was behind Linc. Holding him prisoner and waiting for her to let down her guard.
Several minutes passed. She finished her tea. He did nothing, and the sense of danger increased.Enough, she thought, and turned to walk away. Lincoln Shaddock knocked politely on the ward. His special specific notes rang out. Those notes hadn’t rung through the air in years, not since the last time she ran him off, telling him she was too old and too tired to play vampire games.
Bedelia swiveled back to the slider doors, thinking, watching his body language. With one hand, she lifted her mixed-amulet necklace and pressed the bloodstone amulet between the thumb and forefinger of her left hand. Thehedgefell in a delicate sprinkling of sparks that looked like a rainbow of fireflies darting hither and thither. Her workings were always pretty, not just utilitarian like anyone could make. A pretty one took skill and power and patience to layer the energies just so. The lights of the fallinghedgedanced across Linc, brushing over him and bursting in a rich red color as they fell. That used to be her special welcome for him. She had never changed it. Linc’s eyes landed on her and she knew that not bothering to alter it had been a mistake.
He moved across the lawn to the house, long, lean, lanky, yet with a vampire’s grace and easy stride. No one followed him. Whatever the danger she was feeling, it wasn’t holding Lincoln Shaddock against his will.
