Riding Her Unicorn Page 7

  “Hey, want to sit down and swap out your shoes?” She should have thought of that a few blocks ago. Poor guy was suffering for nothing.

  “No.” He kept walking and didn’t skip a beat.

  “But your feet are wet.” Obviously he knew that, but his answer made no sense to her.

  “And so are yours.”

  “Your point?”

  “I’m not going to be walking around all warm and snug as you suffer.” He stopped at the corner and looked both ways before he began to cross. “What kind of a man would that make me?”

  “A normal one with dry feet.”

  “No. It would make me a jackass.” As much as she wanted to argue, he was kind of right. If he had done it without her offering first, it would have been a complete dick move.

  “Not changing after I suggested it, makes you a stubborn one.”

  “I’m really okay with that.”

  She gave up. Stubborn man. “Turn left here. There it is.” She pointed and was shocked at how oddly empty the parking lot was.

  “It is larger than I thought,” he mused.

  “It is, but don’t let the size fool you. It is fairly limited in its selections.” Coming from a larger city, that was what she had initially missed. Many of her favorite foods were simply not available. They did have an amazing butcher though. Catering to a town with a high percentage of carnivorous shifters had its advantages.

  “We don’t really need a wide variety.” He used a fake sexy voice as he spoke. Even in soaking wet shoes, with a damaged truck, and carrying a duffle bag that could probably fit a body, the man kept his humor.

  “I didn’t meant that.” She gave him a light shoulder bump as to not throw him off balance while carrying his belongings. “I meant in general.”

  “I knew what you meant.” He shoulder bumped her back. “So chicken, condoms, home?”

  “Maybe a side dish or two also, but yeah that is basically all we need.” If they were lucky, they could be back at the cabin in less than an hour and before it got dark. Not that she minded walking in the dark, but walking through the mess the storm left in the dark wouldn’t be fun.

  “Perfect.”

  The store was more crowded than she would have guessed given the empty parking lot. They were lucky that there was still chicken left, given the time. “Ohh, lemon pepper or traditional?”

  “Traditional?”

  “Sounds good.” She liked both, but the lemon pepper did sometimes approach the salty side. She gave a quick scan of the prepared foods. It was pretty bare. “Salad and cornbread work for you?”

  “Sounds perfect.”

  They walked down the main isle and he pulled her to a stop. “Look over there. Garden clogs are on sale in the season section.” He failed to mention they were big ugly garden clogs.

  “So?” She knew where he was going with this, but she wanted him to be wrong. They were twenty bucks of ugly that probably were uncomfortable to boot.

  “They are shoes. You need shoes.” She gave him her best stink eye. “They are designed for mud.” She might as well give up. He seemed to be determined, and they probably would come in handy during mud season.

  “If I agree to a pair, will you be happy?”

  He smiled and walked closer to the display. “Immensely.”

  She snagged a pair and threw them in the cart.

  The condoms were, of course, on the most embarrassing aisle ever. On one side they had the baby diapers—you know, to let you know why you needed the little raincoats. Below them were feminine hygiene products, including creams for unwanted itching. To the right, they had all the medicines and supplements you would ever need to make you regular. Yeah, merchandising was not really wanting people to buy these.

  The placement didn’t seem to bother Jason at all, though. He grabbed the biggest box on the shelf and held it out to her. “Here.”

  “Seriously, did you just snag the mega variety pack?”

  “Yeah, so?” He seemed confused, as if it were completely logical to grab a bulk pack of things you have zero intention of using.

  “They are $36.”

  He leaned over dropping them in the cart and whispering in her ear as his lips passed. “And for her pleasure.”

  He was not playing fair, nor was he being at all logical. Not only was the “her pleasure” a crock of shit to get guys to spend more, but the multi pack had one hundred condoms. “Her pleasure would be to grab the three pack for a couple of bucks and to throw them in the bathroom drawer and forget about them.” There. She told him.

  “And if she changes her mind and we run out?” Considerate Jason was coming in for the kill.

  “I won’t.” It was true; she had zero plans to even open the stupid box that was finding a new home in her cabin.”

  “But if you do?”

  “Fine.” She waved him off in defeat. “Waste the money, but you are carrying that thing home.”

  “Asshat.”

  Amber smiled at his teasing return of her words, but shit, he was right. She was being an asshat to the nth degree.

  “Your asshat,” she conceded and stood on her tip toes to kiss his cheek, her shoe making a sucking sound as she did.

  “Yeah, mine.” He turned his head to capture her lips. “Home,” he mumbled against her lips.

  “Now.” She led him to the register as quickly as she could.

  Sometimes History Should Not be Repeated

  “I feel the energy rising again.” Jason pulled her around a broken branch as he spoke. “This witch is either out of control or trying really hard to be noticed.”

  “Do you think it will be another storm?” Amber had assumed that the town meeting had been able to identify the witch and put a stop to her behaviors. She hopped over another branch. Their path home was a disaster, and she was happy that there was still daylight to be had.

  “No. This one feels different.” He seemed to be more thinking aloud than talking to her, and he actually tripped a bit on a branch.

  “Different how?” Everything felt the same to her. Darn her jaguar.

  “Different … young?” He seemed unsure at first and then firmly added “Young. Very.”

  “I don’t understand.” She kept walking, the urge to get home stronger than before, but not out of the lust she had been feeling only moments earlier or even fear for the power brewing. No. She felt like the house was calling her.

  “It feels like a child.” She squeezed his hand as she continued on her ever quickening pace. How could a child have caused all of this? “An insanely strong child, but a child. The weird part is the energy, it seems to have nowhere to go. Like there isn’t a plan for it. Maybe it is accidental?”

  “Do you think it is the same witch as before?” How could it be, but yet as she said it, she knew it was. “Should we call the Sheriff?” Jason pulled her to a stop and didn’t begin to speak until she was facing him.

  “I think that would not end well.” The seriousness of his facial expression caused a shiver to run through Amber’s body.

  “What aren’t you telling me?”

  Jason closed his eyes and took a small step forward, swallowing as he did so. This was not good. “If it is a young witch out of control, what do you think they will do to her?” His eyes remained closed for a moment before he gave his head a shake and opened them to meet hers. Fear was brewing in his eyes.

  “Teach her how to control her powers.” The moment the words left her lips she could feel the wrongness of them. Of course they wouldn’t just give her a time out or lessons. She was dangerous.

  “That would be nice, but more than likely they would bind her powers.” Binding a witches powers was the equivalent of taking away a shifter’s animal. It would make her a shell of who she was.

  “That is horrible.” Amber’s life had been less than sunshine and roses due to her stubborn and hidey Jaguar, but her Jaguar had always been there. If her Jaguar had been taken from her, she would have surely crumbled.

&
nbsp; “It is better than back in the day when they used to kill them.”

  Amber stepped into his arms, the bag from the store and the bag of wet shoes thudding on the ground as Jason dropped them to comfort her.

  “They killed children?” She knew the witch burnings of history were real, but she never thought about the fact that children might be among them.

  “Did Rosemary ever tell you why she was living in a hidden cabin?”

  She had asked numerous times, but was always given an evasive answer. “Not so much. She hinted that it was because of her powers.” Amber pulled her head back to look up at Jason, saw sorrow racing through his eyes, and quickly snuggled back into his chest, bracing herself for what she knew would be a story without a happily ever after.

  “Her sister was killed in front of her when she was a child.” His voice cracked with emotion.

  “What? How?” she gasped out before thinking.

  “She was killed because she scared people. She healed someone who should have died, and they called her a necromancer. She was burned like a witch in days of old.” Necromancers weren’t actually real, but people seemed to fear them more than the actual scary things in this world.

  “How could they do that to a child and in front of her sister, too?” Poor Rosemary. Her old friend carried so much and yet gave her all to help Amber from the moment they met.

  “The whole family was there. They killed her parents next.” Tears were flowing from Amber’s eyes. That is something no one should ever have to go through, much less a child. “Rosemary only got away because her illusion was strong enough to hide in the trees. She was the youngest, so they assumed she was unskilled and didn’t focus on her whereabouts or the security of her ropes the way they did with the others.”

  “She got away.”

  He pushed away slightly and wiped her tears with his thumbs. “She did.” He forced a smile and continued on. “That was when she took the name Rosemary. A sprig of Rosemary gave her the inspiration to hide and pulled her from her fear.”

  “Rosemary?” Amber pulled out her inner file cabinet to find rosemary. It had a lot of uses medicinally and in culinary arts, but nothing stuck out at her as reducing fear or helping with illusion.

  “It is used both as to bring love and as a memorial in folk lore. She wanted to honor their love by being alive to share their memory with others.” His voice was lighter now. He seemed to be focusing on better memories.

  A shiver ran through Amber and from the looks of it, Jason as well. “What was that?”

  “That was our little witch.” He bent down to pick up the bags with his right hand and grabbed her hand with his left.

  “What should we do?” They were walking at a quick clip, thanks to Jason’s lead.

  “Go home, grab some supplies, and then go find her.” They were practically running now.

  “Supplies?” She would need to make sure they had them all before getting too far from town.

  “A flashlight, a backpack with some water and food.” Phew. She had all of those things at the cabin, and since they were closer to the cabin than town, that was a relief. “And one of my grandmother’s old journals. Do you think you can find it if I describe it?”

  Crap on a cracker. She knew it was too easy. “I hope so. I am not very far in my quest for organization.”

  “It is covered in a quilt-like book cover. It almost looks like a blanket was made for the book.” Phew. It was the one thing she knew the location of with certainty. It was under her pillow waiting for the time she would need it.

  “I do. She told me it was for me, and I would know when I needed it.”

  “Now. You need it now.” Their almost running became a sprint, making it back to the cabin in record time.

  Amber grabbed the journal and brought it out to Jason as he threw random things in the backpack she directed him to. There was not much food in the house, but there was enough.

  “Here.” She held out the book to Jason who shook his head and continued to fill up a water bottle.

  “It’s not for me. You open it.” He capped the water bottle and began to fill a second.

  “To where?”

  “I don’t know, but you will.” Code. The man was talking in code.

  “What?” She needed more answers, but he kept continuing to pack. The backpack was going to be heavy at this rate.

  “The book is spelled by the witch who raised my grandmother. It will open to where you need and will open to a photo album to all others.” Wasn’t that a handy trick? She hoped he was right.

  “Why me? Shouldn’t it be you since you are a relative?” The book began to vibrate so slightly she might have missed it if she hadn’t been so focused on it.

  “Because you are who Rosemary chose.”

  “How do you know?” He was right. She could feel it.

  “You live here. No one else has ever even been here.” Rosemary had mentioned that, but she had thought it was more of a no one ever visits kind of thing. It had been so much more than that. She opened the book three quarters of the way.

  “It opened up to a healing powder from the looks of it, but it has no name.” She flipped through the book but all of the other pages were pictures of trees. This was the page. Reading through the directions she was much relieved to have all of the ingredients on hand. “I don’t have it, but I have the things to make it.”

  “Do it.” Jason’s voice was firm and demanding. He must have sensed his harshness and immediately lightened his tone. “Will it be ready right away or does it need to sit and cure or something?”

  “You don’t know anything about healing do you?” It came out as flip, which was not her intent, and she mumbled, “Sorry.”

  “Not a thing,” he admitted as he zipped the bag. His part of preparing, finished.

  “It will be ready once I blend it and say the words.” He gave her a nod and put the backpack on his shoulder. “I can mix this up in a few minutes.” Relief showed on his face.

  “Like a spell?” She gave him a quizzical look. “The words?” She hadn’t really thought about that.

  “No. Yes. I don’t know. I’m not a witch so I don’t have that kind of power, but Rosemary was raised by one, apparently. So maybe?” Could they work without the words? She would need to look into that further. Since she was not a witch it was possible. “Not experimenting without the words today.” Amber answered her unspoken pondering.

  “Agreed.” He must have let his mind wander there also. She quickly mixed everything and placed in it a small canning jar. As much of a cluttery mess the house was, the healing supplies were very well organized in the pantry. Thank goodness.

  “Done.” She screwed the jar on the lid as he handed her an empty back pack.

  “Let’s bring the book, too.”

  She was planning to leave it there, but he was right. They might need it again. She quickly grabbed a bunch of dried rosemary. She doubted they would need it, but it pulled at her so Amber went with it. “Where are we going?”

  “To catch ourselves a witch.” Because that answered everything.

  Little Witch, Little Witch, Let Me Come In

  They had been walking for almost an hour in mostly silence. Every once in a while Jason would tell her they were turning left or right and a few times warned her about a branch, but mostly they were just silent. Amber just kept repeating the words she said over the powder over and over again, more out of comfort than out of actually doing anything. It was in a language she didn’t understand, but was pretty good at reading after her time spent with Rosemary. Amber only understood two words and those were Death and Hide. Neither of them sounded good to her.

  “Over here.” Jason’s voice was low. They must be getting close. “See it?”

  Amber looked. She saw trees, broken branches, rocks, and that was pretty much it. “See what?” She lowered her voice to match his.

  “Close your eyes.” She did as he said without question. “Remember the first time you
saw Rosemary’s?” She nodded, not opening her eyes. “How did she help you see it?”

  “She told me to look past the tree she was pointing to. She said to make myself see through it, like if I was trying to see through a mirror.”

  “Yes, perfect.” He gave her shoulder a squeeze. “When you open your eyes, do the same where I am pointing.”

  Amber nodded and opened her eyes slowly. Jason was pointing to a rock, and she did as he said.

  “Nothing.” She was frustrated and took in a deep breath. It had taken her an hour to see the cabin she now called home, and Amber knew she didn’t have that kind of time. She needed to focus.

  “You can do it,” Jason whispered in her ear.

  She tried once again, and this time a tent began to come into focus. They were at a campsite hidden from all who weren’t looking properly. The tent looked old and small and the pull of the zipper let them know they were not unnoticed.

  “Hello,” Amber gave a tentative call as she took another step. “We are not here to hurt you. We are friends.”

  “Strangers,” a young voice called back. “Mama said never talk to strangers.”

  “That’s a good rule, but sometimes you need to ask for help from a stranger.” Amber offered her hand. A young girl popped her head out of the tent in response. “My name is Amber and this is Jason.”

  “What do you mean about needing help?” The girl crawled out of the tent, keeping the flap close to her. She was protecting whatever was inside.

  “I am a Jaguar.”

  “You don’t feel it.” The girl stood and leaned in slightly. The girl couldn’t have been more than four or five. Her hair was plaited, and from the looks of it, it had been quite a few days ago.

  “I know,” Jason acknowledged for Amber.

  The girl looked her up and down again before giving her attention to Jason. “She is broken.”

  “I came here to get help from a stranger.” Amber interjected. She hoped the last bit hoped the confession would put the young girl at ease.