I drilled him hard in the shoulder and his yelp of pain woke Marty. Any serious thoughts I might have been having were lost in the good- natured roughhousing that followed. It’s a wonder we made it back to Marty’s in one piece, and it was another two hours before I trundled on home.
There was a package on the table when I got home, with a Pikes Peak return address on it.
Thank you, Viljo.
While I had intended to creep into the house quietly, the bedroom light was on as I tried to tiptoe my way down the hall, proving that my ninja skills were sorely lacking. Mira was dressed in her usual tank top and pajama shorts, her curly hair piled atop her head in an artfully disheveled mop. She laid her book aside and shook her head at my weak attempt at stealth.
“How was the game?”
“It was okay. We lost.” I sat on the bed to pull my boots off and tossed them into the corner with a thump. With my back to her as I undressed, maybe she wouldn’t see the telltale guilt on my face. If I was any sort of lucky, she hadn’t heard about the brawl.
I should know that luck is not my strong suit. “They said on the news there was trouble out there. Something about a big fight.”
“Yeah, I heard that, too.” While it wasn’t a lie exactly, it felt like one, and that made me feel like shit. I was developing a nasty omission habit where my wife was concerned, and I made a silent promise to rectify that. “I kinda punched a guy in the face and got banned from the stadium for the rest of the season.” I pulled my shirt off over my head and almost missed her quiet sigh.
“You don’t start fights without a good reason. Was it important?”
“Technically, I didn’t start it. I finished it.” And the fact that the punch and the banning were totally separate incidents didn’t bear mentioning. “But yeah, it was important.” The sheets rustled as she reached for me, and her hand felt cool on my bare back. I turned to find her giving me that serious look.
“Just be careful that you pick the right battles, Jess. I don’t want to lose you over something stupid.” Those lines were there again, around her eyes, making her look older than her thirty years.
I’m sure she wouldn’t appreciate my mentioning it. It was bad enough that I knew they were my fault. How many nights had she walked the floors, waiting to find out if I was alive or dead? How many hospital meals had she eaten, and how many crappy fold-out chairs had she slept on? I will never understand why she stays with me, but I’m so grateful she does. My life would be a lot darker without her. Hers would be a lot safer without me.
“Do you think what I do is stupid?”
She frowned at me, clearly offended, and withdrew her hand. “Of course not. I believe you’re doing the right thing.”
“Even if I wind up leaving you and Anna alone?”
“Jesse, if everyone in the world stood by and did nothing, think what a horrible place it would be. Someone has to take a stand. And if I say ‘not my husband,’ I’m just as bad as those people who turn a blind eye. Worse, maybe.” She bit her lower lip, trying to find the words.
“That first time, when Nicky was suddenly healthy and Cole and Steph were so happy, all I could think was, was it such a bad thing? If it had been Anna so sick, I’d have done the same thing. I’d have done anything to save her. How many other people like that are there, Jess? Good people, trying to do good things the only way they can find. I don’t believe that no good deed goes unpunished. Someone has to help them, when they don’t deserve to suffer for eternity.” Her hand found mine again, squeezing hard. “I can’t fight like you do. The best I can do is use my own power to keep you safe, and to simply allow you to fight. Am I always happy about it? No. It scares me to death every single time, knowing that it might be the last. That doesn’t mean it’s not worthwhile.”
“You shouldn’t have to do . . . this. Any of it.” If I had even an ounce of magical ability, she’d be safely out of that much of it. We both knew it.
“I don’t
have
to. I want to.”
I had to do something to take that great and terrible determination out of her eyes. I traced her smooth cheek with one finger. “You’re sexy when you’re all serious, you know that?”
It worked. She rolled her eyes at me and caught my hand. “You’re a pervert.”
“No, come on, I’m serious.” I scooted over until I could pull her into my arms. “You’re the most beautiful woman in the whole world, and I don’t deserve you.”
“You got that right, buster.” She poked one finger playfully into my chest. “And don’t you ever forget it.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah!”
The teasing turned into wrestling and that turned into . . . Well, never you mind what it turned into. If you can’t figure out what married people do when they’re alone, then you’re probably too young to know, anyway.
Later (much later), I drifted to sleep with the scent of strawberries all around me, and Mira’s head pillowed on my shoulder. Her breath was warm across my skin, and she clung to me as if she could keep me safe by sheer force of will. Who knows, maybe she could.
If I dreamed, I didn’t remember it. If I had, I might have woken up sooner.
I think it was the smell from the spent matches that first invaded my rather nice nap. “Mmrf?” One arm flung across the bed found Mira’s side empty, and my eyes snapped open. My internal clock told me dawn was still a long way off. There was no reason for her to be up.
“Mira?” Maybe Anna had had a nightmare. Or maybe it was just a nighttime bathroom trip. Or maybe she’d gotten into that FedEx box on the kitchen table and was trying to scry for Guy’s location.
I was out of the bed and struggling into my pajama pants as fast as my gimpy leg would let me. “Mira! Don’t!” But I smelled the matches, the lit candles. I knew I was already too late to stop her.
She didn’t even look up from the basin when I stumbled into her room. The air was thick with candle smoke and something else indefinable—the taste of magic. It was like cloves on the back of my throat.
“Mir, please don’t do this.”
“Shh.” Watching her hands weave invisible sigils in the air was rather like being hypnotized. I could almost see tracers following her fingers, like the glare left behind by Fourth of July sparklers.
“I’ll break the circle, Mir.”
“No you won’t.” Damn her for being right. I didn’t know if crossing that line would hurt her in some way, and she knew it. I made a mental vow to get someone to teach me magic, even if I could only learn the theory of it. “Watch . . . It’s coming together.”
The salt swirled in the bowl, drawn into coherent images by my wife’s will. I could see the white of Guy’s hair and beard—dark in actuality—and even catch some of the pattern in his plaid shirt. The plaid was broken by something dark across his chest, and at first I thought it was armor. But I could see the shirt flap with every movement, and I finally realized that it was hanging open, unbuttoned. Guy wore no protective gear, and the dark shape was his bare chest in negative. He was armed—I could see the hatchet in his right hand—but where the hell was his armor?
As we watched, he fought a losing battle against an unseen opponent just like Miguel. Whatever it was, it was something big. Guy’s blows were aimed at something chest-height on him. And it was fast. He never had time to turn. The invisible thing latched onto the back of his thigh, flinging him through the air to collide with a solid barrier of some sort. Even downed, the lumberjack champion tried to fight until his arm was literally ripped off at the shoulder and tossed away. Dark blood flowed in negative, white salt taking the place of vibrant red in the reversed image.
Mira moaned softly at that, and I pressed as close to the circle as I dared. “Stop it. Turn it off and let me in there. Mira, dammit, I mean it!” Even in the dim light, I could see the color leaching out of her skin, the trembling in her hands.
“I can hold it . . . a little longer. . . .” She spoke through clenched teeth, the cords in her neck standing out with the strain of it. “We have to see. . . .”
“Mir, he’s dead.” The words felt like the tolling of some great bell, a final nail in a coffin. “There’s nothing more to see.” Her green eyes looked up at me for long moments, stubbornness and vain hope vying against the finality of truth.
Finally, her shoulders sagged and she dropped her hands. The salt dispersed, making the water milky once more, and Mira scuffed the circle into nonexistence with one bare foot. I somehow managed to catch her as she slumped toward the floor. Her skin was blazing hot this time, and already as dry as parchment. I fully expected blisters to rise on my bare chest as I scooped her into my arms and stood.
“Wh-what are you doing?”
“You’re going in the tub, for starters.”
It was hard as hell to carry her down the hallway on my bad leg, but I was determined to do it regardless. I got her into the bathtub and turned the shower on as cold as it would go, holding her upright as best I could from outside. The spray steamed when it hit her at first, but I could tell it was bringing her temperature down quickly. Maybe we wouldn’t need the ice packs from the freezer after all.
“Why the hell did you do that? Dammit, Mir!” I tipped her chin up so I could look into her eyes, thumbing her eyelids open until she swatted weakly at me. I grabbed a washcloth and soaked it through, bathing her forehead.
“We had to know. . . .” She rested her head against the tile wall, ignoring my ministrations, arms wrapped around her knees.
“Not that way, we didn’t. Twice in one week? Are you nuts?” Okay, it was my worry talking. Normally, I wouldn’t dream of speaking to my wife like that. But . . . dammit! “And why didn’t you wake me up?”
“Because you would have told me not to do it.” The thin tank top and shorts were nearly transparent under the steady stream of water. Her dark curls hung limp and heavy around her face, and as the moments went by, her lips started to turn faintly blue. Examination found her skin properly chilled.
The cruel hand of fear slowly eased its grip on my heart as Mira seemed to be cooling down quickly. We got lucky. I think I preferred the cold reactions to the hot ones. High fevers could do all kinds of damage.
I leaned my head against the shower door, trying not to shiver myself where I was seated on the linoleum floor. “What am I going to do with you?”
“Love me?” She reached to take my hand, and I threaded my fingers through hers.
“Isn’t that my line?”
“Usually.”
We sat there for a long time, holding hands in the cold shower. Neither of us said much. I honestly didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t make me look like a big insensitive jerk.
Yes, I appreciated her efforts. And I knew that her ability to help me meant a lot to her. I just couldn’t seem to get it through her head that nothing in the world was worth her risking herself like that—absolutely nothing, and especially not me.
Somewhere around butt-crack-of-dawn o’clock, I bundled us both into bed to get what little sleep we could.
19
T
he promised high pressure (or low pressure? I can never keep that straight) front moved in overnight, and Friday didn’t so much dawn as slink in with promises of tantrums forthcoming. It reminded me a bit of Paulo. The thought amused me, but Mira didn’t get the joke when I told her. Oh well.
I slipped out of bed and dressed quietly with the intention of letting Mira sleep as long as possible. She didn’t even stir, which attested to her exhaustion.
I went through my morning katas in near darkness. Though the sun remained firmly imprisoned behind gathering clouds, it wasn’t cold. The presummer warmth lingered, and the air tingled with electricity. I could smell rain on the faint breeze. The world seemed to be waiting on the verge of something momentous. Even without seeing a weather broadcast, I knew we were in for some nastiness.
My right leg hated me. I wasn’t sure if it was the changing weather or still the strain from my spill on the wet linoleum, but the muscles twitched and spasmed despite my considerable warm-up. I pushed myself to overcome the hesitancy in my movements, and in retrospect, it was probably not my smartest decision. By the time I finished, my calf was on fire. As much as I hated to admit it, I was going to have to curtail the physical exercise for the next two weeks, or I’d never be in shape to fight for Kidd’s soul—if I wasn’t in jail by then. How the hell do I get myself into these messes?
Thankfully, Axel didn’t make his usual morning appearance. The chess set hadn’t been touched since the last time I looked at it, so he hadn’t even dared to come by when I wasn’t looking. I wasn’t sure what to say to him, anyway.
“You’re a demon!”
Well duh, genius. I was the only person shocked by that little revelation. And the worst part was, at one point, I had honestly thought we were friends—in a semihostile, wary sort of way.
I pondered having Mira ward the boundaries of our yard, but if he could find me anywhere, anytime, what was the point? I’d never been a man to hide safely behind walls, even magical ones. I believed in me, above all else. I would protect the people I cared about.
I took some time to tend to my garden before I went back inside. That usually consisted of raking my rock path and straining the algae out of the little pond. The pond itself was the easier of the two tasks. There hadn’t been enough sun and warmth to truly turn it into the swamp it could be, if I didn’t stay ahead of it. The rock garden, however, was a larger project.
Even with my leg gimped, I found the process soothing. I changed the patterns occasionally, altering the design to fit my mood and meditations. The smooth river stones made pleasant little clicks and clacks as I raked them into order, the tan pebbles forming a sinuous stone stream through the creamy white. The black ones I scooped into tiny mounds, obstacles for my river to flow around. I thought it fitting.
My little bonsai shrubs were still recovering from their winter indoors, but I retrieved the clippers to nip off a few stray growths that didn’t fit with the shape I was cultivating. I took the new greenery as a sign that they were still healthy plants.