someone.”
“Someone did get hurt. Masset.” He glanced over at her. “He would have killed you, Bronte. What should we have done? Let him?”
“If anyone else had been around, they would have been crushed. What if your brother had arrived sooner?” Her voice cracked.
His hand landed on her head like a big paw. It was reassuring in a gruff, silent way. He started up the car. The keys were still in her purse. He guided the car over the gravel path. The gyre’s energy faded with the distance until it was too faint for her syphon power to pull any longer. She touched the passenger window, hanging on to the sensations as long as she could.
“This part of the drive is rough. Mage power doesn’t work here.”
Sure enough, they hit a huge pothole and then bumped through a meadow. A one-story house sat in the middle of it. Four stone columns supported the roof’s broad edge. It hung over a long porch accessible by three stone steps. The natural wood siding on the house blended with the meadow and surrounding forest. The double front doors were black with a thin strip of windows near their tops.
“No driveway?” Her voice hiccupped in the middle as they hit another bump in the field. She rolled down her window and stuck out her hand, letting the tall, thin weedy stalks that dotted the field brush against her as they drove past. They were crisp and brown with fuzzy tops that protected seeds.
His jaw hardened. “I let it grow over. Since Double-Wide’s been so damn active, I’d rather no one came here anyway. Lately whenever I’ve been here, it’s to recupe. I can’t have people around for that.”
“Does it work?” she asked as he turned right in front of the house and parked the car. “Does not having a driveway keep your family away?”
He shook his head with a vexed laugh and got out. Bronte stepped barefoot into the weeds and pulled her violin from the backseat. He hauled her battered duffel bag from the trunk. She’d packed it with the bare essentials, planning only for a few hours’ sleep in a motel on the drive home. He waited by her side, his expression hesitant, hopeful. She couldn’t imagine he looked vulnerable very often.
“I’ll take the couch,” he offered. “Or you could…if you wanted to…you could sleep at the big house.” He fumbled over his gentlemanly offer.
The big house contained at least four Rallis mages plus their mage servants. She’d take his cabin. She climbed the steps and stopped in front of the doors. She met his eyes despite the nervous flutter in her gut. Her body was more alive, more awake than normal. She wanted to sing it back to sleep. This moment held a significance she didn’t want it to have.
He set her bag on the stone porch, reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a long key, with jagged, uneven teeth. She raised an eyebrow at it.
“There were days when using a key was much easier than using energy.”
There were days …past tense…as if those days were over thanks to her.
He opened the door, picked up her bag, and waited. She set one foot over the threshold and then the other. With three paces into the cool, dark space, she found herself in the kitchen. A long table dominated the open room. Even through the dim light she could see the eight empty chairs that lined the rectangular table, as if a large pioneer family gathered around it for supper.
The room brightened as a collection of lanterns came on. They dangled from the ceiling over the table. A large fireplace and chimney took up a quarter of the wall to her right. A doorway before it led into a bedroom. There was no door to the separate room. She could see the bed pushed against the front wall with a quilt draped over it, an artistic smear of greens on a white background.
On the other side of the table, the kitchen appliances and wood counter stood. Shelves instead of cabinets lined the walls and held a minimal number of plates, bowls, and pans. The stove was chrome with rounded
“Someone did get hurt. Masset.” He glanced over at her. “He would have killed you, Bronte. What should we have done? Let him?”
“If anyone else had been around, they would have been crushed. What if your brother had arrived sooner?” Her voice cracked.
His hand landed on her head like a big paw. It was reassuring in a gruff, silent way. He started up the car. The keys were still in her purse. He guided the car over the gravel path. The gyre’s energy faded with the distance until it was too faint for her syphon power to pull any longer. She touched the passenger window, hanging on to the sensations as long as she could.
“This part of the drive is rough. Mage power doesn’t work here.”
Sure enough, they hit a huge pothole and then bumped through a meadow. A one-story house sat in the middle of it. Four stone columns supported the roof’s broad edge. It hung over a long porch accessible by three stone steps. The natural wood siding on the house blended with the meadow and surrounding forest. The double front doors were black with a thin strip of windows near their tops.
“No driveway?” Her voice hiccupped in the middle as they hit another bump in the field. She rolled down her window and stuck out her hand, letting the tall, thin weedy stalks that dotted the field brush against her as they drove past. They were crisp and brown with fuzzy tops that protected seeds.
His jaw hardened. “I let it grow over. Since Double-Wide’s been so damn active, I’d rather no one came here anyway. Lately whenever I’ve been here, it’s to recupe. I can’t have people around for that.”
“Does it work?” she asked as he turned right in front of the house and parked the car. “Does not having a driveway keep your family away?”
He shook his head with a vexed laugh and got out. Bronte stepped barefoot into the weeds and pulled her violin from the backseat. He hauled her battered duffel bag from the trunk. She’d packed it with the bare essentials, planning only for a few hours’ sleep in a motel on the drive home. He waited by her side, his expression hesitant, hopeful. She couldn’t imagine he looked vulnerable very often.
“I’ll take the couch,” he offered. “Or you could…if you wanted to…you could sleep at the big house.” He fumbled over his gentlemanly offer.
The big house contained at least four Rallis mages plus their mage servants. She’d take his cabin. She climbed the steps and stopped in front of the doors. She met his eyes despite the nervous flutter in her gut. Her body was more alive, more awake than normal. She wanted to sing it back to sleep. This moment held a significance she didn’t want it to have.
He set her bag on the stone porch, reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a long key, with jagged, uneven teeth. She raised an eyebrow at it.
“There were days when using a key was much easier than using energy.”
There were days …past tense…as if those days were over thanks to her.
He opened the door, picked up her bag, and waited. She set one foot over the threshold and then the other. With three paces into the cool, dark space, she found herself in the kitchen. A long table dominated the open room. Even through the dim light she could see the eight empty chairs that lined the rectangular table, as if a large pioneer family gathered around it for supper.
The room brightened as a collection of lanterns came on. They dangled from the ceiling over the table. A large fireplace and chimney took up a quarter of the wall to her right. A doorway before it led into a bedroom. There was no door to the separate room. She could see the bed pushed against the front wall with a quilt draped over it, an artistic smear of greens on a white background.
On the other side of the table, the kitchen appliances and wood counter stood. Shelves instead of cabinets lined the walls and held a minimal number of plates, bowls, and pans. The stove was chrome with rounded
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