Chapter Seventeen
Rowan’s meeting with Lyons concluded, he was glad he was on foot, because Seattle traffic was worse than normal. Midafternoon, on the heels of rush hour, and the traffic lights still weren’t working.
A few drivers used their horns, as though that would fix the situation.
Traffic edged through the intersection from all directions.
The area to his right was the real problem.
Cars were perched on the crest of a hill, where visibility was nearly nonexistent for the drivers.
More car horns joined in while impatient pedestrians moved to cross the street.
Brakes screeched over wet pavement as a sports car swerved, barely missing a woman and a black Labrador Retriever.
Both were huddled together in the center of the crosswalk, where they appeared to be frozen in fear as a white sedan swerved around them.
An impatient driver in a black pickup truck sped over the crest of the hill straight for them.
Across the street a man screamed to the woman to get out of the way as he hurried toward her. It happened like a movie played out in slow motion. Instinctively Rowan knew the man wouldn’t reach her in time. A different kind of speed was needed.
Willing his core to overheat, Rowan took off in a blur of light.
He sped around briefcase-wielding business types, parents pushing baby carriages, and teenagers attached to their cell phones.
Racing past cars and people, his speed took on the power of a raging fire storm as though the world was standing still.
Rowan gathered the woman in his arms and reached for the dog. But the animal leapt out of the way and into the oncoming traffic. A truck swerved, trying to avoid the animal, but everything happened too fast. It struck the dog and plowed into a van.
Rowan spun clear of the chaos and sped to the curb, setting the woman down gently.
Silence hung in the intersection as Rowan scanned the faces of the crowd and recognized the confusion in their expressions. He knew they were trying to process what they’d seen happen.
He’d acted impulsively, something he hadn’t done in a very long time.
The Grey Council and the Talons wouldn’t be doing a Snoopy Happy Dance in his honor when they found out.
He’d risked exposure. Again. The Talons and the Grey Council only put up with these risks so long before they reacted.
He’d never heard of them killing anyone, but banishment was always at the top of their list.
What was happening to him? He needed more sleep—or maybe less. One thing was certain. It was time to clean up the mess he’d made. Gone were the times when his kind could live out in the open. The witch trials, monster hunts, and purges had been a bleak reminder. Survival meant secrecy.
Rowan scanned the crash site for signs of the dog.
The poor animal must have died when it was struck by the truck.
He felt bad that he hadn’t anticipated that the animal might spook if a stranger tried to grab him.
The woman, her back to him, sat where he’d left her.
She pulled the hood of her raincoat farther over her head, clutched her knees together, and rocked slowly back and forth.
She looked like she was in shock, but there was nothing more he could do for her.
Human hospitals were good at picking up the pieces and putting people back together. Or so he’d been told.
Regardless, she was no longer his concern. Mitigating the situation at the intersection was.
Removing his dark glasses, he cast a forgetfulness spell over the crowd.
This method would distort the events of the last few seconds, leaving the crowd confused and unable to piece together what had happened with any certainty.
It should be enough. A few might guess he was responsible for saving the woman, but the details of the rescue would be fuzzy, like the weather.
Fortunately, humans had a way of adjusting what they saw to fit their perspective of the world and how they thought it worked.
It was one of the main reasons the magical community had been able to co-exist with them without detection for centuries.
When he replaced his glasses, the deafening quiet broke and with it the traffic lights resumed their normal patterns.
Maybe his spell had jolted loose whatever problem had caused the malfunction.
Yeah, like thinking that if you threw you shoe at your flat-screen TV, it would change the outcome of a football game.
The accident forgotten, the crowd cheered in relief as cars moved through the intersection and people rushed to appointments. A few hurried toward the woman, offering help and comfort.
Hands in his pockets, Rowan crossed the street, wanting to be as far away as possible.
Then he caught another distress call. The injured dog whimpered beside the totaled vehicles.
The dog was still alive. He felt a ridiculous amount of relief and froze in place.
If he was smart, he’d walk away. This shouldn’t be his problem.
He’d already risked exposure by saving the woman.
Helping a dog would send the Talons and the Grey Council into fits of outrage.
The dog whimpered again; this time the sound was weaker. The animal wouldn’t survive without help.
“Damn.” Rowan let out his breath, turned around and headed in the direction of the animal’s distress call.
Aid cars and police and fire trucks were descending on the scene.
No one took notice when he knelt and stroked the dog’s matted fur.
The animal’s breathing was shallow and labored. “Easy, boy.”
The dog’s tail thumped once on the ground as though that was all the strength he had left.
He was a beauty, with fur the same midnight black as a raven’s feathers.
But he didn’t have a collar, and his ribs pushed against his chest. He looked like he hadn’t eaten in days.
Maybe the dog had followed the woman into the street, begging for food, or from a primal instinct to protect her.
The animal turned his gaze toward Rowan.
The dog’s brown eyes were filled with pain.
Rowan glanced toward the crowd. Their attention was focused on giving their report to a police officer who’d appeared on the scene.
Rowan would have to make this quick before the officer decided to include him in his investigation.
He pressed his hand over the animal’s chest, transferring the healing warmth of his touch to the dog, hoping it would be enough.
When he was younger, he’d healed his cat when she got into a fight with a racoon, and also a half dozen water sprites, three flower fairies and a baby Troll.
His method didn’t work on anything larger and resulted in giving the victim false hope.
Healing humans or Wizards was not in his bag of magic tricks no matter how many times he’d tried to hone the skill.
He’d learned that the hard way when he had tried to heal Lyons’ foster mother after she was attacked.
The animal’s breathing smoothed out and his heart rate grew stronger just as someone pointed in Rowan’s direction. Rowan scratched the dog under his chin. “That’s all I can do for you now, boy. Hope it was enough.”
Rowan rose, and with his hands in his pockets, he headed toward a densely populated sidewalk.
Disappearing into a crowd was one of his talents.
Being identified as a hero complicated that objective.
He’d read somewhere that the words “hero” and “tragedy” were linked together all the time. Made sense.
The Superman character was the perfect example. Like the man of steel, Rowan could move at the speed of light. But whether you donned a cape or put on the persona of a Fire Wizard, the outcome was the same. You were on your own.
A woman wearing a raincoat brushed his side. It was the human he’d saved. He tensed, catching her exotic scent. Why hadn’t he noticed it before? Blurred memories roared past, each one more difficult to grasp than the last.
Her mouth tilted at the corners in a smile. He knew that smile. But how?
“Thank you, Fire Wizard.”
He swore under his breath. There could be only one reason she’d seen him for who he was. She wasn’t human. How had he missed it? Were the traffic lights, the damsel-in-distress, the dog, all an elaborate trap? He shook his head in self-disgust. And who was she?
He’d rushed right into the deception like a novice Wizard with a green wand and a heart filled with idealism. Someone must be laughing their ass off. In the name of all the scum-sucking bottom feeders he’d hunted down, why hadn’t he known she was magical?
She stood there, waiting. Green eyes, heart-shaped face, hair piled in soft curls on top of her head.
He knew it fell past her shoulders and felt as soft as silk in his hands.
He knew she tasted like strawberries and honey and smelled like an ocean breeze off the coast of the enchanted Irish island of Hy-Brasil.
He knew how her naked skin felt against his, how the curve of her breast filled his hand, how her naked hips moved…
Without warning, the brand over his heart, the one he’d received during Bealtaine, started to burn. He took a ragged breath. “It’s you.”
****
One minute Rowan was on a busy street corner in Seattle, and the next he was in an alley, draped in shadows and heat.
Only a distant hum of life outside the sanctuary managed to penetrate.
Rowan wasn’t sure how it happened. Didn’t care.
He held the woman from the accident in his arms as memories flashed back in a storm of light.
He knew her name and every inch of her body.
“Morgan? What are you doing here?” he breathed against her lips, cupping the back of her neck in his hand.
“I’m glad to see you too.” Her smile was intoxicating as she leaned in.
He pressed his mouth against hers and inhaled her fragrance, drowning in her scent. He’d never met a woman like her. She was everything. Every cliché he’d ever heard, every love song ever written. If he was a poet, he… But he wasn’t.
He was a Wizard. And cursed to love forbidden fruit. Every fiber of his being screamed they were not meant to be together.
His thoughts blurred as though he’d been thrown into a cloud bank. He had a vague sense she was controlling his thoughts. Spell? Glamour? Then, somehow, they were naked. How had that happened? Did he care?
Hell, no!
He wanted something soft to lay her on. The alley was a poor choice for someone like her, used to silks and velvets. As soon as he’d expressed the thought, a bed of pillows appeared beneath them.
She lowered herself onto them and motioned for him to follow.
“You’ve enchanted me.”
“Do you mind?” A soft shadow flitted across her face. He reached out as though he could brush it away. He couldn’t stand to see her sad.
“Mind? I can’t think when I’m with you.”
She pulled him down. “Lust is a selfish mistress. Enough talk.”
“Good. Because I’m out of words.”