Charmed and Dangerous: An Appalachian Magic Novel (Appalachian Magic Series Book 1) by Debbie Herbert

out.”
    “The three of you go on,” James said. “I need to talk to Callie. And don’t worry. I’ll go with her tomorrow. No need for all of you to miss your classes.”
    Skye frowned. “Are you sure one person will be enough?”
    “More than enough,” he assured her.
    Tanner and Michael sized him up. They were both large football players, but James was more than a match for them. He had an air of confidence and authority that inspired trust.
    Michael nodded. “Let us know if you change your mind.”
    Tanner tore off a page from the notebook he carried and scribbled. “Here’s my cell number in case you need us.”
    James stuffed it in his jean pocket. “She’s safe with me.”
    “I can go by myself,” she said after they were alone in the hallway.
    “Everyone thinks there’s a danger, so why take chances?”
    “Suit yourself.” It wouldn’t hurt to have backup though . . . just in case Dad was a bit psycho.
----
    F or the hundredth time , Callie touched the amber pendant as she gazed out the car window. Four thousand pounds of steel hurtled her toward this meeting with her stranger-father.
    I’m safe. She had the amber, she had the protection shield from her coven, and she had James.
    “What’s that smell?” James leaned in from the driver’s side and sniffed her neck. His warm breath felt like a balm to her edgy energy. She could feel its heat all the way down to her toes.
    “You don’t like it?” Great, the last thing she wanted this morning was to stink.
    “I love it . . . it’s bewitching.”
    She glanced sharply at him, but his face was impassive as he stared at the road. Callie leaned back in the seat and brought the inside of her wrist to her nose. Smelled good to her. Last night, she and Skye had holed up in her bedroom and made a protection potion. A little added insurance never hurt. They mixed sage, a bit of basil, lots of patchouli, almond oil, and a few drops of holy water blessed by the last full moon. Since patchouli also attracted lust from the opposite sex, Skye poured the leftover oil in a vial. No doubt to use around Tanner. The guy needed serious help seeing what was right in front of him.
    Too soon, James pulled into JayCee Park and parked near the deserted Confederate cemetery.
    She bounded out of the car, and they walked to the graves, not at all bothered by the atmosphere. Just as the writer Zelda Fitzgerald used to stroll through the Confederate cemetery in Montgomery when she needed to clear her head, Callie found cemeteries peaceful places, not haunted grounds.
    “James, you know why Confederate markers have pointed tops instead of round tops, don’t you?”
    “Legend says it’s to keep those damn Yankees from sitting on them.”
    Callie laughed. But in spite of the joke, he seemed grim. “I heard it was a Southern Masonic symbol thing, but I like your legend better.”
    She followed him to the statue of the Confederate soldier on horseback. Inscribed beneath it were a few stanzas copied from an Arlington National Cemetery Confederate marker:
    Not for fame or reward
    But in simple
    Obedience to duty
    As they understood it
    These men suffered all
    Sacrificed all
    Dared all - and died.
    “The Lost Cause. Such a waste,” she murmured.
    “You can’t even imagine,” James said. “It was horrible.”
    He spoke as if he were there. Impossible. Callie stilled, recalling the vision of him kneeling by the grave of Elizabeth Channing MacLauren who had died in 1865.
    “Who was Elizabeth Channing?” she asked softly.
    His head jerked back, and then he tried to mask his strong reaction. “An ancestor.” He shrugged and looked around with an exaggerated casualness. “Want to tell me how you know her name?”
    “Nope. Don’t believe I do.” He didn’t want to answer her questions; so why should she answer his?
    “That’s what I thought. One day soon, we really are going to have to talk.” His gaze focused directly over her left shoulder. “Brown corduroy jacket