Witches' Waves (8 page)

Chapter Nine

Deck choked on a tidal surge of oceanic power.

Not his. Meaghan's. Whatever magical levy had been holding her water power in check collapsed abruptly under the ritual's onslaught. She was a strong water witch, stronger than he was. But she was completely uncontrolled, untaught, and without meaning to, she was using her powers in dangerous ways.

Deck sensed the wave building at the same time Meaghan began to thrash and bubble as if she were drowning. She was so attractive to water right now that it was actually raining over her, but that wasn't the worst of it. The humidity in the air was collecting, rushing into her, and given how humid Oregon was, it was going to kill her with its love.

Shit shit shit
shit
.

“Jude, hold her up,” Deck yelled. “Kyle, do something—she's drowning. Someone get her shielded, fast!” He was probably best suited to that, being the water worker, but there wasn't time. They'd set up the ritual in the seaside garden area, just beyond the beach, because of Meaghan's latent water power. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. But not now.

A big ass rogue wave was on its way as the ocean rushed to greet the water witch just released from her bonds. Pity the ocean didn't know it would endanger said witch and them, not to mention a few fishing boats and whichever of the kids were on the beach—and there were always some, either Donovans or kids playing hooky from town. With any luck, Heather was with them. But she was only thirteen, even if she was powerful. He hadn't been blowing bubbles when he'd said she was better than he was in a ritual setting. But pulling something out of your ass in a crisis took practice. There were a lot of factors to consider so that while trying to avert a disaster at point A, you don't cause one at point B.

Deck didn't have that much practice in actual crises. He tried to avoid them whenever possible, instead of rushing into them like his parents and some of his other relatives did. But spontaneously improving the wave conditions for his surfing buddies without fucking things up down the coast couldn't be that different from dissipating a big wave on the fly without fucking things up down the coast.

He kept telling himself that, anyway. It was definitely harder since he wasn't right on the beach. He could see the water, feel the water, but they were high enough up that even the big surf only spritzed the area.

Most of the time. He'd never seen it himself, but his parents' generation remembered a storm that brought waves crashing onto the garden they were in now, despite the water witches' and weather workers' efforts.

The wave that was coming was one of those.

With half his brain, Deck worked desperately to pull the water back from Meaghan's lungs, to give her room to breathe. With the other half he reached out to the ocean, reminding it of all the good times they'd shared, imploring it to calm the fuck down.

The ocean acknowledged him, but the wave was still building. Meaghan was calling it without knowing she was doing so, and her wild call appealed to the untamed ocean more than Deck's more contained power could.

People were springing into action all around him, mostly working on Meaghan. Jan and his grandmother had taken over for Kyle, who'd kept her breathing long enough for the healers to get a handle on the magical aspect of the problem.

Great. With them taking care of Meaghan, he could focus completely on what he had to do.

Which was to stop playing nice. The Donovan way was to work gently with the powers of nature, but even the more rule-bound older generation admitted it didn't always work. In tight situations, you had to punt—and this was a tight situation.

Deck chanted, not one of the traditional Gaelic spells, but a steady English chant of “Calm down. She just meant to say hello, not call the great waves.” Donovan ancestors had learned Gaelic water spells from the aquatic fae called selkies when Ireland was still tiny kingdoms ruled by feuding kings, but sometimes Deck needed simpler words, words from the heart. “Please. Calm down. Don't hurt anyone.”

Deck sensed the ocean recognized his words and was trying to obey, but Meaghan was still sending out her wild call. Less than a minute had passed since he sensed the wave building, but there was no time to waste. What had started far out to sea was now dangerously close to shore.

Deck did something he almost never did. He called deliberately upon his other power, the one that played neither by Donovan rules nor those of his mother's family, from whom he'd inherited it.

Lightning flashed out of a clear sky, followed by a great clap of thunder as the lightning struck the water. At the same time, he made his water power into a metaphysical fist and smashed down on the growing wave.

The lightning was just enough energy to heat the surface of the water a degree or two. Even magical lightning couldn't violate physics completely, which was a damn shame under the circumstances. And the impact of the “fist” would do nothing against the vast force of a riled-up Pacific. But magical lightning meeting a magically conjured wave had an effect that physics hadn't figured out how to explain yet, especially when backed up by a dope slap from his other powers.

The ocean had a consciousness of sorts, and the desperation behind the lightning strike and blow got the wave's attention.

Gave him room to slip soothing water magic in while the wave was, for want of a more precise word, distracted.

The wave began to dissipate. It would take time for the ocean to calm itself completely, but Deck's sense of the water's movement told him the immediate danger had been prevented.

Surrounded by healers, Kyle supporting her, Meaghan was breathing normally. Thank the Powers. But water magic was never that fucking simple. Deck still had to disperse all the wave energy properly, making sure it didn't store up and end up doing something freakish later. He dispersed it into a series of waves, all up and down the coast, large enough to make for a great day of surfing or boarding or wave watching, but no danger as long as people were halfway careful. Maybe he could get Paul to help him put a keep-away spell on the closest public beaches for the next few hours, something to keep newbie surfers and little kids away.

Meaghan sat up, shakily. “Why is my hair wet?” she said. “And why do I feel the ocean is inside me?”

Before anyone could answer, she started to seize.

And then she stopped.

Her wet hair tried to stand on end, but the convulsion stopped before it started. With his own water power, Deck sensed how Meaghan's raw connection to the ocean was buffering the worst effects of the vision that even he could tell was coming.

“The Agency figured it out,” she said, her voice deep and raspy yet sexy, not the light, shy, girlish voice Deck had heard only a few times but would, he realized with a start, recognize anywhere. “The Agency knows I'm still alive and its blocks on me are gone. They know there are only a few places where this could have happened, and they are looking for me. And when they find me, they will find Jocelyn. Even if I leave here now, they will find Jocelyn. I saw it just now.” Her voice returned to normal as she added, “I'm so sorry.”

“We knew we'd have to deal with them eventually,” Elissa said drily. “Better that we get to choose the ground.” Elissa really had changed, Deck thought. Her earlier rant when Meaghan told her story might have been bravado in the face of fear, but this sounded like Elissa had thought things through and was prepared for a fight.

Looking around, he saw the same determination on the faces of everyone in the circle. He'd expect it from Jude and Rafe, who were big carnivores, territorial and protective of their woman and cub and, by extension, of all the Donovans. Jocelyn was the granddaughter Aunt Jan thought she'd never have, so of course Aunt Jan was game. And Aunt Bath was testy anyway, because of the ghosts. But Kyle looked ready to kick some butt too. Demons and devas, even
Grandma Roz
looked ready to kick some butt and hundred-year-old healers didn't do that kind of thing. Even less than otters did.

Deck thought longingly of Hawaii, where the surfing was always good and where Pele's influence kept dark magic away. The volcano spirit had no qualms about flaming anyone who caused trouble on her turf. Right now, it sounded great.

How quickly could he get a ticket to Hawaii? Would Kyle come with him?

“How much time do we have?” Trust Jude to ask the practical questions.

Meaghan shook her head as if it would jar her thoughts loose. “They're confused now, angry. They know the spells on me are gone, know my full powers are loose—hell, they know I'm alive and they weren't sure before—but they don't know where I am. Someone was aware of the spells being removed, and before you ask, I don't know who. The visions are never that clear. Someone Shaw would trust to monitor the spells…”

“If the person is smart, it shouldn't take him too long to figure out there are only a few places a witch can disappear off the magical grid so entirely, and only a few people on the West Coast who can break the kind of spells that were on you,” his grandmother said, the harsh truth only slightly softened by her gentle, lilting brogue.

“Basically us or the Hailey-Moritomos down in Monterey. Maybe the de la Vegas, but their main power base is in Mexico so they don't feel as strongly about pranking the Agency as American witches do. We might as well have sent up a fucking flare.” Deck put it together way too easily. He could only hope the people at the Agency were a little slower.

He suspected they weren't.

Forget Hawaii. For the first time in his life, he felt that Donovan urge to face trouble head on.

Kyle wasn't going to abandon Meaghan. Deck could tell by the look on Kyle's face and the way the muscles in his tan arms roped from holding Meaghan so close, by the way Meaghan clung to the otter as if he was her safety in what had to be a terrifying world. Kyle, the otter who wanted to be a hero, wouldn't be able to resist that. Hell, Deck wasn't sure he'd be able to resist the little blonde's combination of fragility and strength, even if he weren't able to sense the oceanic power that surged in her, calling to his from a distance.

If Kyle was going to be a hero for Meaghan, Deck would just have to put on his big-witch panties and be a hero for Kyle.

Not to mention for his family, his cousin's baby and a pretty girl he barely knew.

But yeah, mostly for the guy Deck had to man up and admit he loved.

Chapter Ten

“We need to plan our defense,” Aunt Jan proclaimed as if her word was law…which, Deck supposed, she assumed it was, since Jocelyn was her miracle grandbaby. “Finish up here and join us when you can. Poor Meaghan must need some rest after the ritual.”

As soon as the older generation cleared the beach, Meaghan laughed and said, “Even after nearly drowning on land, I feel better than I have in ages. I can feel the ocean inside me. I want to hang out here and get to know the ocean better.” She grinned and wrung salt water out of her long hair. “Then again, maybe I should dry off first.”

“I can help you with that.” Deck put his hand on Meaghan's shoulder. Her sweatshirt was so wet it squished under his hand. Gently, he channeled the excess moisture away from her clothes and hair, enjoying the way her magic lapped at his skin and his own powers as he touched her. “You'll probably want to change, but at least you're just damp, not soggy.”

Meaghan, still seated, bounced up and down. A smile lit both her face and her aura. “That's amazing. Can you teach me to do that? Can we stay here and you can teach me about water magic? The ocean is filling me with energy and I want to learn to use it!”

Part of Deck smiled at her innocent enthusiasm. Part of him cringed at her wish that he teach her.

Meaghan had no idea how badly that idea scared him, or how badly he could screw her up by trying to help her. Someone would teach her. But it wouldn't be him with his irregular magic and random lightning bolts and occasional earth tremors. Not if he could help it.

Luckily he had a good excuse to put her off for now. “What I just did seems simple, but it's trickier than you'd think. You need good control and a thorough grounding in magical basics to make sure you don't dry something—or someone—out too much. You notice your clothes and hair aren't completely dry. That's so I didn't accidentally give you nasty, dried-out hair or worse.”

“Or worse?” Meaghan's face fell.

“Theoretically you could turn someone into a mummy. I don't know if that's ever happened, but a couple of times I left my target feeling like they'd hiked in the desert without a canteen. And since you have an exceptionally strong water power, you'll have to practice on wet towels even longer than I did.”

He thought that might discourage her, but Meaghan's disgruntled expression perked up. “So you could use that spell as a weapon?”

Deck was spared the difficulty of answering that tricky question because Elissa did it for him. “There's nothing like dealing with the Agency to make you want to blast someone to the Otherside, is there?”

“They want to hurt your baby the way they did me. I'd rather hurt them first.”

Elissa made a small, strained noise. “Trust me, so would I. But Donovans can't kill with magic. It can destroy our powers or even kill us with the rebound. Certain warrior witch families”—she looked at Deck as she said that, since Deck's mother was from one of those families—“have lethal spells in their traditions, and some wild witches, but not all, can use deadly magic if the need is great enough. We don't know your background, so it's best you don't try anything too crazy until we know more about how your powers work or I can study your genetics. As for that particular spell, though, a skilled water witch could use it to incapacitate or distract an enemy without killing him. It would take serious control, but it's possible.”

Interesting. Not long ago, Elissa had echoed the Donovan party line that killing with magic was bad, no matter who did it, and never mind that her own grandmother, Josie, a wild witch, had taken out a few otherwise unstoppable public menaces before she married into the Donovans. Now Elissa had modified her stance to one more in line with Deck's own. Just because deadly force would never work for him didn't mean it wasn't legit for his Norwegian cousins.

Thank goodness magic knew your intentions, so “using deadly force by accident” wouldn't count. He hadn't yet, but his father always assured him it was a matter of time.

“I see.” Meaghan's brow wrinkled. “One more reason to start studying. I'd hate to kill someone by mistake.” Something in her tone suggested she wouldn't mind so much doing it on purpose.

“Dry shoes first,” Deck cautioned.
And a proper teacher. One who isn't me.

She laughed ruefully. “Yeah. My feet are cold.”

“So here's a question.” Kyle stood, helping Meaghan to her feet as he did. With him holding her arm—half guiding her, Deck thought, and half not wanting to break the contact. As they walked in a tight group back toward the complex, he continued, “The Donovans all know the Agency is doing terrible things. So why haven't you guys and the other witch clans ganged up on them?”

“Irish Potato Famine,” Deck and Elissa said in unison.

“Uncontained magical war has unintended consequences,” Elissa elaborated, “even if you're not using deadly spells. It upsets the balance if you draw on natural forces like we do. Last time the Donovans got involved in a war, three-quarters of a million people died by accident.”

“Which even I have to admit is a good reason to be cautious,” Deck said. “Not to mention we try to work within human law. My parents and Elissa's dad and the elders of the other witch clans have been working the political angle with the Agency. We thought they were making progress, especially after Elissa and the guys uncovered the New York facility, but I guess the Agency just took their shit farther underground.”

“Get me up to speed with my magic,” Meaghan said, her voice strong and clear over the surf. “I'll pretend I want to go back to them. They think I'm their tool. That I'm weak. That I might actually want to come back when I find out how hard it is for a seer to live outside their shields. And once I'm back I'll fucking turn them into mummies.” Deck would have thought she was making a dubious joke, but the expression on her face was serious.

“It's too dangerous,” Kyle insisted. “You heard what Elissa said. No one knows if you could survive doing that kind of magic.”

“Trust me, I understand where you're coming from.” Jude growled, a soft, menacing sound. “But the Agency's too big to take on alone.”

Elissa raised one hand, looked around. Deck saw her aura extend as if checking for any other witches in hearing range. “We're nearly at the main house,” she whispered. “Keep your voices down. The old folks would get their panties in a wad if they heard Meaghan suggest that.”

Deck forced himself to grin and sound like his usual devil-may-care self. “I thought that was one of the beauties of Meaghan's idea. The downside, of course, is that it's suicidal. Even if you can work lethal magic without harming yourself, which we don't know, there's one Meaghan and a whole bunch of agents. You could take some of them down, but then they'd squash you like a bug.”

Meaghan shrugged. “If it made them think twice about coming after Jocelyn, it would be worth it.”

“No, it wouldn't.” Deck surprised himself by his vehemence—must be her water power linking with his, making him feel like he and Meaghan were old friends, not recent acquaintances. He quickly turned it into a joke. “I'm selfish, you know. Can't have a pretty woman dying before I've gotten to flirt with her. But seriously, there has to be a better way. And if anyone can figure out a better way, it's this family, working together.” He hoped. They hadn't until now. But they'd never been so personally threatened by the Agency before.

Jude shrugged. “Something that crazy might be worth it if I thought it would work. Though I prefer the idea of me and Rafe doing it since all we'd have to worry about is the Agency killing us, not our brains imploding from doing the wrong kind of magic. But killing a few of them, even killing a lot of them, doesn't stop them. We learned this in New York. They need to be brought down completely.”

Deck cursed mentally. When he ran out of foul English and Gaelic words, he threw in a few Norwegian ones. Then he took a deep breath. “And in that case, good defenses here and my parents and Uncle Dermott are probably still our best hope. Damn it. I hate waiting for the cavalry to come to the rescue.”

“Especially since my dad and your parents are in some war-torn, Powers-forsaken Third World country,” Elissa added.

“Trying to fix things for strangers, instead of taking care of the family.”

Just like they had been when Elissa and Jude had almost gotten themselves killed by the Agency, and when Paul and his husband had been kidnapped by sorcerers who wanted them dead.

Superheroes were handy unless you were related to them.

Then they were busy rescuing someone else.

“And when the cavalry gets here, they'll inevitably find some reason to say ‘I told you so' to both of us.” Elissa hugged Deck, her familiar scent of herbs and pears surrounding him. “We'll see you guys soon. I can tell Jocelyn wants to nurse. And honestly, I can't stand being away from her much longer, even though Rafe's with her.”

After Elissa and Jude headed over to their cabin, Deck hesitated at the base of the stairs to his apartment, caught in a wild surge of confusion. Kyle was in easy-touching range, disheveled by wind and by the craziness of the ritual, and Deck's body was of the opinion they really needed to go upstairs and fuck until neither of them could walk away again.

But Meaghan was with them and his magic prompted him that he couldn't abandon her, not with her water magic so new and raw and wild.

He tried to convince himself that it wasn't his job to take care of her. Donovan's Cove was crawling with relatives who'd see to it she had companionship. It was close enough to dinnertime that people would be gathered in the dining room and nearby library. Someone would take Meaghan under their wing. Someone who didn't have the prospect of a reunion with a long-lost lover tonight.

But the long-lost lover was the only person here Meaghan
knew
at all. He really needed to let Meaghan hang out with him and Kyle. While he might not be the most responsible guy on the planet, he liked the woman and it would be downright mean to abandon her when she was this vulnerable.

Which meant no kinky sex with his favorite otter.

His body helpfully reminded him that he and Kyle were both bi and Meaghan was attractive, and Kyle was showing every sign of interest in her. All kinds of sexy possibilities ran through his mind, or maybe it was his cock.

Right. Deck was the Donovans' official King of Bad Ideas, but that took bad ideas to a new level. Meaghan was pretty, tough-minded and a little crazy—everything he'd normally like in a woman—but he'd just met her. And she was traumatized in Powers only knew how many ways.

He gazed at Kyle, mouthed, “Later. Your ass, my dick,” and ushered them upstairs.

He did take a few seconds to appreciate the view of both Kyle's ass and Meaghan's as they entered his space.

As soon as the door shut behind them, Meaghan put her hand over Kyle's heart. Deck drew in a deep breath as magic shifted in the room. “I hadn't wanted to say anything in front of the others,” Meaghan said, “but the whole suicidal-risk thing isn't a big deal. I have a progressive neurological disorder that's going to kill me anyway. Might as well go out with a bang.”

Her voice was calm, rock steady, as if her own death didn't mean a thing to her. Maybe it didn't, given the life she'd had.

Kyle's brown hand clasped over Meaghan's small, pale one. He drew her close and kissed her forehead.

The room switched to slow motion. Before Deck thought twice, he went to them and wrapped his arms around them both. Meaghan was still as stone, her slight body rigid. Kyle was trembling.

The two of them felt so right against him. He already needed Kyle so much it terrified him, but how could Meaghan feel so right when he hardly knew her? And how could it hurt so much to know that he'd lose her before he had time to know her?

Because a young person with a fatal illness was horrible news, no matter how you sliced it. No need to romanticize it more than that, he told himself firmly. Plus, Meaghan was attractive and brave and he suspected he'd really like her, given time, and he had more of a sentimental streak than he cared to admit.

Suddenly red magic kicked in, warming him against the chill of Meaghan's words. It wasn't the sparkling and dancing that was supposed to happen when you made love with your perfect magical partner, but there had to be something to the compatible-magic theory because contact with the two of them ramped up his power, his emotions, his libido. Kyle always felt pretty damn good to him. Kyle and Meaghan together felt even better.

“We'll fix it,” Deck promised, though his healing magic was minimal and he had no right to make such a promise. “If there's a way to fix it, we'll fix it.”

“No doctors.” Meaghan spoke as adamantly as if she were channeling every Donovan woman who'd ever lived.

Deck forced himself to laugh. She seemed to like the sound of it. “Doctor smoctor. My family can get away with being officious and holier than thou because they really
are
the best in the world at what they do. My grandmother and Aunt Jan are better than any doctors on the planet. And there's no poking with needles involved.” He paused, then added, “Although there's sometimes poking around in your head, which is strange.”

She shuddered, as if imagining another presence in her head, her head in which she was finally alone.

Just her and the disease that was eating the life she'd just wrestled back from the Agency. And Deck was determined to get rid of that. He wanted her to live with a desperation he couldn't explain. Sure, he'd want to help anyone with a terminal illness—but this was different. This was personal.

Selfish, even. He sensed Kyle's world would be poorer without her in it. Which meant so would his.