Charmed and Dangerous: An Appalachian Magic Novel (Appalachian Magic Series Book 1) Read online

  It seemed this was to be a week of disappointment all the way around. James was still acting like a jerk.

  She trudged through the day of classes, cell phone close at hand. But there had been no call. By the time she returned home, the compulsion to run burned like a fever. A long, hard run, preferably uphill. She raced to her room and changed into a jogging suit before bolting back down the stairs.

  “What’s the rush?” Grandma Jo asked from the kitchen.

  “Just need to let off steam. Be back in a couple hours.”

  “We don’t like you running around the mountain by yourself,” Grandma Jo scolded. “It’s not safe. What if something happened to you alone out there?

  She held up her cell phone and headed toward the back door. “Remember this new-fangled invention, Grandma? You’ve got my number.” She smiled when Grandma Jo sighed loud enough to be heard across two rooms.

  It was her first real smile today. All week everyone kept asking what’s wrong with you? Even that creepy Dean Connors met her in the hallway and commented on her long face.

  Callie ran up the mountain. Nothing was ordered and logical in her world anymore. Lucas and James were two different, yet all-consuming, puzzles.

  At the mountain’s peak, she slowed and made her way, exhausted, to her spot on the rock bluff to meditate. The view was spectacular. She couldn’t wait until the trees were green to get the full effect, but even in the dead of winter, seeing nothing more than houses as matchbox-sized dwellings did a lot for her perspective.

  She closed her eyes and relished the sunlight touching her face. She grounded herself to the earth, imagining a beam of light from the base of her spine growing like roots in the soil. The air smelt earthy and clean, refreshing.

  Cleansing, salty tears washed her cheeks. Now she was thinking more clearly, she realized what hurt right now wasn’t so much her family’s situation. After all, her father was a stranger. But James . . . She couldn’t help believing they were meant to be together. Whether meeting him was plain luck or a gift from the goddess, she didn’t know and didn’t particularly care.

  She conjured him in her mind’s eye. Every detail—his scent, his aura, and his rich voice. For the first time in over a week, she allowed herself to fully remember the feel of his arms around her.

  Bad idea.

  Loneliness pierced her like lightning. James! She couldn’t help the silent scream in her mind.

  * * *

  He watched Callie from across the mountaintop. Always watching, always at a distance, the story of his life. His heart was ever guarded, reserving a small piece of himself hidden that must remain a secret from mortals. Especially witches.

  “Beautiful, isn’t she?” he murmured. The better to tempt.

  Sin wagged his tail in answer.

  Callie sat on the rock ledge, exactly where he saw her the first time. Her eyes were closed, face impassive, as if in a trance. She had blown him away then, and now that he knew her, she knocked him out.

  “I’ve got to be strong, Sin. For all I know, she’s cast an enchantment spell. Maybe she’s really an ugly, toothless hag with a big ole wart on her nose.” Sin barked, and James patted his head. “A man can always count on his dog to agree with him. Besides, she’s a baby. I could be her great-great-great grandfather. Or something like that.” He scowled at his own words as he watched Callie.

  Her face twisted in pain, and wet tracks cascaded down her cheeks.

  The tears did him in.

  James sighed into the howling wind. “I’m going to regret this one day, but I can’t stand to see her cry. Should we go see her?”

  Sin barked again in agreement.

  “Let’s go, boy.” He gathered him in his arms; the dog could never keep up with his speed.

  * * *

  Barking erupted . . . She knew that bark. Callie held her breath. At the opening in the woods, James emerged with Sin wriggling in his arms. She scanned his face questioningly and saw that the old, friendly James was back.

  Sin ran to her, and she bent to rub behind his ears, her eyes locked on James. He came slowly toward her, wordless, and opened his arms.

  She went to him, no reservations. The guy had issues, but she could overcome whatever doubts he had. She read in his eyes he cared, and that was enough for now.

  They clung to each other, and peace washed over her senses in waves of pink and red vibrations. Their auras melded, and everything about it was right. Whenever he was near, his unique energy enveloped her with feelings of a home she’d never had, dreams and promises yet to be fulfilled.

  He pulled away first and wiped the tears off her face. “Hope I’m not the cause of these. Or is that being awfully conceited?” He smiled, and she melted in the warmth of his gaze.

  Her face reddened. “You’re partly to blame.”

  “Guess I should be glad I’m not the only reason. Sorry I’ve acted so cold lately. I missed you.”

  “I should ask you why, but right now I really don’t care.” She hugged him tightly. “We all have our secrets.”

  “That we do.”

  He ran his fingers through her hair and kissed the top of her scalp. “Callie,” he groaned. His breath was deep and ragged, and she realized hers was the same.

  “Have you ever—?”

  She knew what he was asking. “Only a couple of times,” she whispered.

  And how she’d regretted it. Her old boyfriend, Greg, had turned out to be a major disappointment. In bed and otherwise. She didn’t ask James the same, afraid she wouldn’t like his answer.

  “That’s what I thought.” He sat down on the rock and pulled her by his side. They sat arm in arm and looked over the mountain.

  “You said earlier I was only partially to blame for the tears. What else is bothering you?”

  “It’s a long story,” she warned.

  “All stories are. I’ve got all the time in the world, believe me.”

  She detected an edge in his words. “All the time in the world?”

  “Figure of speech.” He brushed aside her question. “Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

  She’d give him an edited version. “It’s my father. All my life I was told he was dead, only to find out he isn’t. Even worse, it’s possible he’s a dangerous man.”

  * * *

  “Dangerous?” James remembered the protection ritual at the coven meeting. “He must be the reason you lived with your aunt in New Jersey.”

  “Yes.” She glanced away and offered nothing more.

  “I see. Then he’s a . . . violent person?” he probed gently.

  “That’s what I’ve been told. I want to see for myself. Skye helped me find his phone number.”

  James whistled softly. “Are you going to call him?”

  “I already did.” She kept her face averted.

  “And?”

  “And nothing.” She picked up a rock and threw it. “I called again this morning and left a message, but he hasn’t bothered calling back.”

  Ah, that explained the tears. “Maybe he’ll call tonight. Give him time, and try not to think about it,” he advised. “Hell, that really sounded stupid, didn’t it?”

  “Not to think about it?” She looked at him and smiled slowly. “Have you got any ideas on how to distract me?” She reached a hand to his face.

  “A few.” He drew her close and kissed her forehead.

  “You can do better than that,” she teased.

  Sin jumped between them, barking and wagging his tail.

  “I do believe the little fellow is annoyed with us for leaving him out,” she said.

  They laughed, and the intimate spell was broken. They lay on the stone outcropping, hands joined, and watched the sun set, casting an orange glow over the Southern sky.

  “Did you know American Indians thought rocks were the bones of Mother Earth?” Callie asked, breaking the comfortable stillness.

  “Actually, yes. I’ve heard lots of Indian tales. Did you know some tribes thou
ght the stars were the campfires of their ancestors?”

  “I like that.”

  He stared into the sky, hoping their ancestors were smiling down on the two of them. Taking a chance with a witch could make life hell for a few decades.

  He hoped Callie was worth the risk.

  5

  Lost Causes

  Callie stopped checking her cell phone every few minutes but carried it everywhere, even class. If she got in trouble . . . too bad. Three more days passed before it suddenly vibrated in the middle of history class. She jumped in her seat and gasped so loud, everyone turned and stared. She shielded the cell with her palm and checked caller I.D. It was him. She rose and hurried for the door.

  Skye, Tanner, and Michael followed.

  “Well, everyone hop out of your seats and leave,” the professor’s voice rang behind them as he threw a piece of chalk to the floor.

  Callie glanced back.

  James stood and smiled sardonically. “Excuse me.”

  “Come back when you can. It’s only history, after all.” He gave an exaggerated sigh and picked up the fallen chalk.

  In the hallway, she answered the phone and waited.

  “Callie? This is your father.”

  Her heart hammered, and her palms were so sweaty, she was afraid she’d drop the phone. “Thanks for calling me back.” Her voice was breathless.

  “It was quite a surprise when I got your message. I’ve been away on business.”

  She’d waited on this call for over a week, but she couldn’t think of a thing to say. He was really on the phone.

  “Does your mother know you called?” he finally asked.

  “She wouldn’t approve.”

  He gave a deep, soft chuckle. “No doubt about that.”

  “Until a few days ago, I thought you were dead. When I found out you were alive . . . well, I have questions.”

  “I’m sure you do.” He sounded subdued, but not surprised, to learn he’d been resurrected from the dead. “Let’s not do this over the phone though.”

  “Okay,” she agreed instantly.

  “Atlanta’s not that far. I could drive over tomorrow, if that’s not too soon for you.”

  “Tomorrow?” Everything was happening so fast.

  “Let’s meet mid-morning in town. Will that work? I don’t think Ginnie and Grandma Jo would exactly welcome me at their home.”

  To hell with her schedule; she’d make it work. “Tell me when and where.”

  “How about ten o’clock? I’ll head out of Atlanta in the morning before the traffic gets bad. It’s too early to meet for lunch, so how about a park?”

  “Sounds good.”

  “Do you know where JayCee Park is?” he asked.

  “Sure. Where exactly in the park should we meet? And how will I recognize you? I mean, I’ve only seen one old photo of you.”

  “There’s a Confederate cemetery there with a soldier statue. Kind of morbid but easy to find. I’ll be surprised if there’s anyone there but us, but I’ll be wearing a brown corduroy jacket and jeans.”

  “Thanks . . . uh . . .Dad. See you then.”

  “I’m glad you called, Callie. I can’t wait to see you again.” His voice was warm and soft. He didn’t sound evil.

  She turned back to the classroom in such a daze, she nearly ran into the small congregation in the hallway.

  “Well?” Skye demanded impatiently.

  “He wants to meet tomorrow.”

  “Wow, that soon!” Skye pumped her for more information. “What did he say? Was he nice?”

  Michael frowned. “You sure it’s safe?”

  “I guess. We’re meeting at JayCee Park at ten o’clock.”

  Tanner nodded. “I have P.E. that period, so it’s no problem ducking out.”

  “I’ll be there,” Michael said.

  “Me too,” Skye added.

  She stared at them, astonished at their quick generosity. “Thanks, but none of you need to skip class. We’re meeting in broad daylight. I’ll have my amber and—” She broke off abruptly at the sight of James leaning against a locker. That was a slip-up. He would never understand. She touched the amber pendant self-consciously. “It’s my lucky charm,” she said quickly. “Some people carry rabbit legs or four-leaf clovers, but I’ve got this.”

  James crossed his arms and kept silent.

  “We better get back to class,” Skye said. “The professor was pretty hot when we all walked 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.

  * * *

  For 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, recall
ing 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 and jeans, right?”

  She took a deep breath and slowly turned to see her father easing out of a silver Jaguar. He waved, oozing charm and confidence.

  “Showtime,” she tried to joke.

  James threw an arm over her shoulder and took a defiant stance.

  “That’s not necessary.” She elbowed him, but he didn’t flinch.

  Her father stood before them. He looked exactly the same as in the old photo, except his hair was a bit longer.

  “Callie.” He hesitated and then drew her into a brief embrace.

  She smelled something vaguely familiar; it tugged and teased the dark corners of her mind.

  “You look so young,” she blurted.

  “Good genes and good living,” he said with a smooth grin. He stepped back and eyed James.

  “This is my friend James.”

  The two men glared. An undercurrent of animosity and tension sparked the air. What was it about their two families that didn’t mesh? First, Mom’s suspicions, then his dad’s antagonism, and now this.

  With obvious reluctance, her father held out a hand. For a minute, she feared James would ignore it.

  “Mr. Bradford.” James’s voice and body were stiff, and his hand reached to his side pocket for something but came up empty. As James shook his hand, they leaned into one another and mumbled something.

  A mild rumbling erupted beneath her feet, and the late January wind crackled with red-hot energy.

  James turned his back to her father and stood directly in front of her. “I’ll give you some privacy and wait in the car. I’m across the street if you need me.” He shot a grim look in the vicinity of her father.