Witches' Waves (27 page)

Hopefully the real monsters hadn't noticed that yet. He really didn't feel like dealing with a naga or a cannibalistic serial killer tonight.

They made it to the front door, stumbled out into the gray predawn forest.

And heard helicopters.

Garrett slumped. “Oh shit,” he murmured. “Backup.”

Deck rallied himself, searching for reserves he didn't have. “Shift!” he told Kyle, knowing the otter wouldn't listen to him.

“Don't be foolish!”

They all jumped, but Deck recognized the familiar energy before either Meaghan or Garrett could do anything regrettable. “It's all right,” he said. “It's just Akane.” The kitsune became visible in the clearing, human height but mostly in fox form.

“Just Akane? You'll pay for that later, cousin. And the helicopters are
just
your parents and uncle, who
just
brought along some of their old friends.”

“Would those be friends from the government?”

Akane shrugged. “Boring people in suits and lovely muscular men with big, big guns. They all seemed annoyed someone messed with our Jocelyn and your lady friend, and furious that Roslyn-san is dead. It seems some of the lives she saved over the years were dear to those in positions of power. And the large men with guns all disapproved of murdering elderly ladies, not to mention kidnapping young handicapped women and threatening babies, in terms that would meet a samurai's approval, only with a few more bad words.”

His father had come through.

And that was his last thought as his abused leg gave out on him and he and Garrett both sank to the forest floor.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

A gentle hand stroked Deck's hair. “Meaghan?” he said. Opening his eyes felt too much like work.

The dry laugh told him otherwise. “If you can't tell your mother from your girlfriend, they gave you too much painkiller.”

He gingerly opened his eyes to find both his parents by his bed. Or at least some bed. This wasn't his room—it was decorated in a clean, cold modern style, for one, with a brushed-steel bedframe and pale beechwood furniture, a lot of light and glass. And it was far neater than his place ever was. He could hear waves crashing outside as if the house sat even closer to the beach than his own.

“Mom? Dad?” His head was swimming and he didn't think it was medication. He struggled to sit up, only to have his father absolutely order him to stay put.

For once he obeyed without argument, mostly because he wasn't sure he was up to arguing but partly because he suspected his father might have a point. Still he managed to say, “Didn't think I was hurt that badly.”

“You weren't,” his father confirmed. “But you're drained, son. Your friend Meaghan as well. You both put out unconscionable amounts of raw power.”

Deck tensed, waiting for the
but
.
But you used it badly. But you created far too much havoc. But people died.

His father patted his hand awkwardly. His mother kept stroking his hair like he was six and had the mumps, or eight and just had a scary magical accident.

Only he'd been in both of those positions and Sigrid Donovan hadn't been that tender with him. At least with the mumps, she hadn't
blamed
him, but even at that age he'd been able to tell she'd wanted to be back at work, not being caregiver to her unpromising youngest child.

Something had to be wrong if they were behaving like this. “Are Meaghan and Kyle all right?” His father had implied that Meaghan was still alive, but maybe she'd been seriously damaged by all the power she'd used, or by killing in his defense, or maybe her neurological problem couldn't handle the strain. Or perhaps something had happened to Kyle. He'd been impressively banged up but it hadn't seemed that serious. Certainly hadn't let it slow him down. What if he'd had internal injuries they hadn't recognized? What if Garrett's magic had misfired at the last second, after Deck had already passed out, and killed Kyle?

His father actually smiled. Deck couldn't remember the last time he'd seen that, except the occasional private grin at his mother. “They're fine.”

“Not even Jan's magic is going to keep Kyle from being one giant ache for a few days,” his mother elaborated. “But none of his injuries were serious. Meaghan drained herself to a dangerous level, but we're on the coast, so she's recovering nicely.”

His father cleared his throat. “Better than anyone expected, honestly. Both she and the injured agent you dragged out made sure we all knew that the magical fatalities were her work, that you'd tried to stop her but the magic had a will of its own at that point. Almost caved the building in between the two of you, though you managed to hold off the worst.”

Okay, the
but
was coming next and it was a big one: that a Donovan couldn't possibly marry a woman who'd killed with her magic.

“She's scared,” Deck's father said, his voice softer than Deck ever remembered hearing it, “scared that you'll reject her. And honest to Powers, I wanted you to at first. But her magic's uncorrupted as far as anyone can sense. Akane's sniffed at her, and someone who's pure magic herself ought to know what she's talking about. The magic wanted her to do it. Wanted her to defend you and Kyle and that Garrett Clark creature, no matter what the cost.”

Deck couldn't help smiling at the thought. Akane, being a fox at heart, had probably literally sniffed.

“I kept reminding your father that Thorssens have some truly ugly battle magic.” Deck turned his head and saw his mother smile, both fierce and tender. “He was just lucky he met me before I needed to use it or he'd probably have been too uptight to marry me.”

“Meaghan's a wild witch.” Deck realized he was beaming with pride as he spoke. “A strong one. I taught her a few basics but she's already surpassed me.”

He expected a more polite version of “that wouldn't be too hard” but instead his father smiled again. Deck expected his face to crack from the unexpected effort. “She wants to learn more. She's clever enough to realize she's likely to hurt herself or someone else, flying by the seat of her pants all the time. By the way and speaking from experience, it's healthy to have a spouse whose magic is more rawly powerful than yours in some areas. It keeps you on your toes.”

“Indeed. And it can be fun sometimes.”

His parents shared a look that should have been secret and private. Maybe they thought he was still too drained to use his witch-sight properly, but they both glowed with red magic.

Good to know his parents were still happy after many years and five children, but that look was bordering on TMI, even by Donovan standards. Time to think about something, anything, else. “So where are we, anyway?”

“A friend's vacation home on the Northern California coast. With all of you in rough shape and Agent Clark only alive at all thanks to your ingenious use of water magic, we thought it best to head here.”

“Ambiguous much? Let me guess: the friend is a politician or higher-up in some alphabet agency.”

“We had to get the helicopters and the SEAL team somehow,” his father said, which was as much of an answer as Deck expected. “He's been looking for a chance to shut the Agency down completely, and now he can. Attacking our home, killing an old, respected healer and trying to kidnap an infant didn't play well in the media. The President is furious. But I expect you'll want to see your partners now.”

“Nice redirect, Dad. Do you think I'll ever deserve the full story?”

He expected either evasion or a dressing-down. What he got was a hug from his father, one that didn't even feel awkward. “I didn't even get the full story this time. But you deserve all the answers we have. You were right, Deck. You didn't have time to go through proper channels, from what Agent Clark has said. They would have come for Jocelyn again, better prepared. And they would have destroyed Meaghan, this family and anyone else who got in their way to do so. You not only rescued your friend and let us save several other prisoners, but brought out someone who has the evidence my friends need to see this never happens again.”

Deck's head swam again, and this time not from magical exhaustion. His father had complimented him! He reacted the only way he knew how, which he knew wasn't a particularly good or mature way. “So why were you trying to boot me out to Kyle and Meaghan?”

This time the hot smile and the words were simultaneous from both parents, as if spoken through the cord of their marriage. “Because we know what it's like when your lover has been in danger.”

The door opened. “Besides,” Kyle said, peeking around the corner, “I wasn't going to wait much longer without barging in. Your aunt told me you needed rest and would wake up when you're ready, so I've been trying to be patient. But I've been hanging out in the hall for hours waiting to hear your voice.”

Deck was out of the bed before he'd even checked to see if he was wearing pants.

He had on pajama bottoms, as it turned out, blue- and white-striped cotton ones that looked like something a rich old man might wear.

He pelted across the plush, pale carpet—it wouldn't survive a day at Donovan's Cove—and pulled Kyle against him, breathing in the other man's wild energy, Kyle's strength and passion and unexpected fierceness that yielded to Deck. Red magic surged through Deck's body, but red magic flavored with salt water. Heat of raw sexuality, blue-green cool of the Pacific.

And mingling with both, Meaghan's amber and ocean, as if they both carried part of her inside them.

Deck groaned and claimed Kyle's mouth.

Deck's mother chuckled indulgently. That wouldn't have been enough to make Deck pull away. Not now. Not with danger behind them and Kyle hot in his arms now.

But Kyle softened the kiss, taking control in a way Deck wasn't used to, steering it away from devouring and reclaiming and more toward tenderness and reaffirming.

And that worked too.

Then he slipped out of Deck's embrace, tugged on his hand. “Come on, love. Meaghan needs us.”

Deck flew down the hall clutching Kyle's hand, not taking in details of what looked like an expensive decorator's idea of a rustic beach house. Big. That was the one thing he noted. It was too damn big because it took more than three steps to reach Meaghan's room.

She was sitting up in bed in a room washed with afternoon ocean light, wearing a pajama top that matched Deck's bottoms. For a few seconds, she didn't seem to realize they'd come in, engrossed in listening to something on a tablet. Kyle cleared his throat loudly. She pulled out her earbuds, set both tablet and earbuds on the bedside table with meticulous care, held out her hands.

Then pulled them back as if she feared getting burned. “I killed,” she said, her voice shaking. “And I'd do it again if you two were threatened.” Deck wanted to crawl onto the bed, wrap her in his arms, his aura, his love. Kyle squeezed Deck's hand and shook his head, though, and Deck got the message: Meaghan needed to get this out.

“I've gone against Donovan ways and what you tried to teach me…and I still think I did the right thing.” She took a breath so big her body shook with it, then let the breath out before continuing. “I'll always love you both. Your family and Akane say my magic isn't like Donovan magic, so I'm not going to go ballistic sometime and randomly turn innocent people into mummies. But I understand if you can't be with me now. I'm really not your family's style.”

Deck's heart cracked, then healed. She still loved them. The silver cord was still strong. She was just afraid.

Kyle nodded now, a quick, tight movement. They moved to the bed together, Kyle crawling in on her left side, Deck on her right. It was crowded—the bed was only a double, not a king like Deck's bed at home—but it wasn't like any of them were going to complain about having to be close together. “Already told you,” Kyle said, his voice gruff, “the only thing that bothers me is I couldn't get them first. Gonna get Tag to teach me to shoot, in case we end up in trouble again.”

Meaghan kissed Kyle's cheek, then turned her face to Deck.

He'd been trying to find the perfect words. He settled for, “Bullshit. You're not getting away from us that easy.” While confusion played across Meaghan's face, he gave her a kiss he hoped conveyed love and passion and need and, above all, trust.

Kyle wrapped himself around both of them, pressed his lips against Meaghan's collarbone.

Deck opened his witch-sight and watched their auras blend and weave together. Ocean and earth and lightning, Kyle's otterside and Meaghan's turquoise visions created a beautiful, harmonious whole, joined by cords of silver and copper. Meaghan's aura was darkened with fear and grief, though. He doubted that in her current state of mind she could perceive their joined aura, or understand its message if she did.

“We're one,” Deck breathed. “The magic knows. Our hearts know. Trust the magic, Meaghan. Yours is different from mine and mine is different from most of the family's, so you and I may raise a few eyebrows. And Kyle's a weird otter, seeing he wants to be a doctor, not a surf bum. But we all belong together.”

Meaghan still shook in their arms, though, and her aura was still streaked with self-doubt.

“Your aunt confirmed what Garrett said. I'm not dying.” Her voice was heavy.

“I know you were brought up oddly, so here's an important tip. Not having a terminal illness isn't something you should be sad about.” Deck squeezed her close.

“I'm not.” Meaghan sighed. “But I'm scared. You guys said you wanted to be with me forever, but you thought forever would be short. Now you'd be stuck with me for the rest of your lives. Is that really what you want?”

“This life and the next, if you'll have us.” As Deck spoke the words, he felt a resonance of red magic that gave them the force of a geas. She'd better damn well say yes now, because he'd committed himself, and possibly Kyle, eternally.

Meaghan shook her head, then snuggled against Deck's chest. “Of course I want you. But I can't believe… I finally believe I'm not a monster or a freak, but I'm still damaged. I'm blind. I have a neurological disorder that your aunt says she's going to have to get help even diagnosing, let alone fixing. It's a lot to take on and won't exactly make your lives easier. Are you sure it's what you really want?”

“Can we go back in time and kill Shaw before Elissa does?” Kyle asked. “Or get a shaman to send us to the Otherside so we can kick his ass repeatedly?” He sounded almost blithe about it, but his fists were opening and closing convulsively.

“You're worth it. You're more than worth it. If it makes you feel better, I'm amazed someone as brave and beautiful as you, and someone as smart and sexy as Kyle, both want me, the family goofball.”

Kyle chittered, and he flushed under his tan. “If you hadn't let me come back, I'd have followed you around the surfing circuit until you admitted we belonged together. And, Meaghan, I think I've been in love with you since you floated into my arms and I wasn't even sure you were
alive
then.”

Deck forced a laugh. “As for my aunt, don't you realize you've just made her year? You're a challenge, and she hasn't had a good challenge in ages.”

Meaghan's lower lip quivered, and she buried her face again in Deck's chest. “Why would she go to all that trouble for me?”