Chapter 18
Abbie’s transformation gobsmacked Jonas.
It was as if the moment Wilder spoke to her, she came alive.
For three months after she woke from her stasis, they’d tried to bring her out of her shell and help her participate in life again.
Yet she’d been resistant, muttering about curses and wanting to go home. When asked, she could never recall.
Tonight was the first time she ventured out of the house, and he’d been surprised when she tagged along behind him.
If he didn’t know better, he’d believe she had anticipated her mate’s arrival.
She went from curled in a corner, picking at the wood slats, to interacting with the guy.
When she’d caressed his face, Jonas’s jaw hit the floor, and with unheard-of clumsiness, Draven had fumbled his cards.
Granted, Wilder had an easy charm and worked on the assumption she’d recognized him on a cellular level. And perhaps she had. Her trust wasn’t easily given, and he was the only stranger who hadn’t been tossed across the room when he touched her without permission.
The man’s brass balls were admirable, and bystanders would make his challenge legendary soon.
Rarely did anyone stand up to a creature like Draven.
Most sensed his underlying strength. Mortals wrote it off to a deadly gunslinger, but those in the magical community knew what he was and who he was destined to become.
Only Draven refused to fall in with the Fates’ plan for him.
“I’ve been around for a long time and never heard of a Traveler until our girl,” Evie said as the door closed behind the couple. “Now we have two. Father and daughter.”
“Yes. We should reach out to Damian, or at the very least to Isis, to learn more. If there are other magical entities out there like these, I want to know.”
“It stands to reason there are.” Absently, she waved her hand, setting the room to rights as if by habit rather than intentionally. Evie loved a tidy house.
“Right,” he replied. “And I suspect the Authority has a long list of those individuals at its disposal. Makes you wonder why they’re trying so hard to get Draven to accept his responsibility as a Guardian.”
“In my experience, the Witches’ Council and Authority only assign one Guardian at a time. They wouldn’t dare grant that type of power to more in case the supercharged banded together to overthrow the establishment.”
Jonas nodded. “Makes sense. They aren’t as confident as they’d like everyone to believe. So who is the current Guardian?”
“As far as I know, they don’t have one. It’s why they’re pushing hard for Draven. Soon, they’ll take away his freedom and force him if he doesn’t conform.”
“But he refuses to guard a ‘dusty old tomb.’” He chuckled when she lifted an inquiring brow. “His words for the Enchantress’s garden. He’d rather gamble and waste his life here in The Devil’s Backbone.”
“I’d love to know his history.” Patting his arm, Evie said, “But for now, I need to speak with Nate and Damian.”
“Why?”
“Wilder was right. That poor dear should be healed without delay.”
“You know, you would make an excellent Guardian, Aunt Evie. I’m surprised they haven’t recruited you for the job.”
“They have. I told them after my boys were settled, and only with Nathanial by my side.”
“It sure doesn’t hurt that the garden is beside your favorite son’s estate,” he teased, wishing his own parents had been as loving as his aunt and uncle were.
“I don’t have favorites. I can’t say the same about my husband. He’s always had a soft spot for Damian.”
“Do you think you can convince him to help Mary—uh, Abbie?”
“He’s going through a stage where he believes he knows best. But Damian will come around after a good talking to,” she assured him.
The only place to find a meal was run by a man named Cookie, who was sweeping up when Wilder and Abbie arrived.
“Kitchen’s closed.”
“Even for a weary traveler and his lady love?” Wilder asked.
“Don’t play favorites,” Cookie said, not bothering to look up from his chore.
“We’ll take whatever you have leftover. It doesn’t matter if it’s not hot.”
The owner finally glanced up, eyeing him before Abbie. His expression softened. “Was in the bank that day. It’s sorry I was for what that good fer nothin’ Harlan did to ya, gal.”
Abbie nodded her understanding.
“It’s good to see ya up and around. Don’t hold with harmin’ women or children.”
Sensing her discomfort over the topic, Wilder wrapped an arm around her. “Abbie and I would really love a meal, sir. We’re happy to pay extra.”
Cookie gestured with his chin to a table by the window. “Have a seat. I’ve got extra stew and biscuits I’ve been saving for Gus. Boy’s a reed.”
Gus.
He’d heard the name earlier as one of the gang members who’d initially found Abbie.
“He’s a good boy, Wilder.” She covered his hand with hers. “Really.”
“Has he already eaten? I wouldn’t want to take his food.”
Cookie barked a laugh as he set his broom aside. “That boy had four meals today alone, and none of them small.”
“Fair enough.”
Wilder drew out a chair and assisted Abbie into it, then immediately sat beside her.
Within minutes, two steaming bowls were placed on the table, accompanied by a plate of biscuits and a beer for each of them. With one bite of the savory dish, Wilder’s taste buds were transformed.
“Good lord! Are you a wizard?”
Cookie chuckled and continued his closing procedure.
Abbie watched Wilder with a fascination new to him. Even in their early days, she wasn’t as enthralled. The disturbing sensation caused him to look away.
Across the street, a light burned in the apartment above the mercantile, outlining Bart’s distinctive figure. Wilder couldn’t shake the feeling he was watching them specifically, and his skin crawled. He barely suppressed the urge to draw Abbie back into the shadows of the restaurant.
“Tell me about Bart,” he said softly.
She looked up from the biscuit she was buttering. “Why?”
“He gives me the creeps. I can’t put my finger on it, but I didn’t appreciate the way he talked about you earlier.”
Slowly, she turned her head toward the street.
“I’ve overheard Red say he’s the type who thinks to control women. Routinely tries to buy her girls.”
He clamped his jaw to hold back what he wished he could say.
Abbie gasped. “He offered money to Draven for me?”
“I was trying to hide that little factoid from you,” he replied with a healthy sigh. “But yes, and Shadow had to hold me back from killing him on the spot.”
“He should’ve let you.”
Her thought was matter-of-fact, bordering on uncaring, and Wilder couldn’t help but wonder if the callousness was from her experiences here.
“Yes,” she answered aloud, after a sip of her beer.
“God, Abbie. I should’ve realized when we couldn’t find your body…” Choking back the regret, he clamped his lips together and shook his head. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
“Not… your… fault,” she stressed, despite the effort to speak. “Not.”
“Our enemies—”
Slapping her palm over his mouth, she glared. “Not.”
Her reaction was so much like her old self, he had to laugh. Before she could draw away, he kissed her palm.
“Fine. If you say so.”
With a decisive nod, she bit into her biscuit, not at all hiding her smile behind the gesture.
He grinned in response.
Goddess, he missed this. Their easy camaraderie and willingness to understand. The way they had always sought to ease each other’s hurts or fears.
“As my date for the night, would you like to go to a dancing hall or the saloon after?”
“Both are for the so-called soiled doves hereabouts,” Cookie said, sliding the last chair onto the table next to them. “Good girls don’t frequent those places, my boy.”
“Oh. I didn’t know.” Feeling foolish, Wilder finished the last of his beer. “Is there somewhere else?”
“During the daylight hours, I’d say a walk along the boards or a drive outside of town. But this late?” Their host scrunched his nose. “I wouldn’t recommend hangin’ out after dark. The bad elements come a’callin’, seekin’ trouble.”
“Understood. Thank you, Mr. Cookie.”
“Just Cookie. And you watch old Bart, yeah? He’s a predator, that one.”
Wilder hadn’t realized the restaurateur had overheard their conversation.
“I know what you are,” the man said, eyes narrowed in shrewd study of him. “The others ’round here, they don’t, but I’ve been around a long time. The Devil’s Backbone is where they all come to test their skills.”
“And Sheriff Jonas? He always able to put them down?”
Cookie’s focus shifted to Abbie. “Mostly. One or two remain to cause trouble, but eventually they go the way of the others. It helps having the Guardian around.”
“You know what Draven is?” he asked, surprised the old man knew so much.
His rheumy eyes twinkled, and a ghost of a smile curled his lips. “Your meal’s on the house, son. Any friend of our Mary’s is a friend of mine.”
“No! You stayed open and—”
“You refusin’ my hospitality, Thorne?”
Wilder went cold. “I don’t believe I mentioned my name.”
“You didn’t. But that don’t mean I’m ignorant of who you are.”
“Care to share?”
“Let’s just say, you’re a descendant of mine, child.” The voice was distinctly feminine, and a shimmering image of the Goddess appeared in place of Cookie before it disappeared.
“Isis,” he breathed, bowing his head. “Exhalted One. Forgive me.”
“Think nothing of it, Beloved.” Drawing out a chair, the Goddess, disguised as Cookie, sat at their table. “But if you would keep this between us, I would look favorably upon you.”
“Why are you here?”
“Two of the world’s four Travelers are stuck here. Their presence has offset the balance, and it must be maintained in all things.”
“How do we get home? Castor and I are powerless, and Abbie doesn’t even remember who she is.”
It struck him that she was particularly quiet upon discovering Isis was masquerading as Cookie in the Wild West. He swiveled to look at her, then jumped into action.
“Oh, shit! Abbie!”
“She’s merely asleep, child. Sit back down while there’s time.”
Heart racing, he did as Isis bade.
“Why hasn’t anyone restored her mind and body? Why allow her suffering?” he demanded. “Damian—”
“Damian does as he’s told. As for healing her, do you think her stunning beauty would go unnoticed in this place? She’s safer under the guise of a crazy, scarred spinster.”
“That’s bullshit,” he snapped.
Isis’s cold stare recalled his manners.
“Apologies, Exhalted One,” Wilder muttered. “I only meant that she might’ve found a way home sooner.”
“The Fates want her here. For Draven.”
His stomach dropped.