The Witch With No Name

The last vampire launched himself at the door, fleeing.

I gasped, trying to figure out what was going on.

“Now, Bis!” Trent shouted, and the world exploded.

The roar of fire washed over us, eating away at the bubble Trent had thrown up.

And then it was gone, the pulse of heat vanishing into the hum of the lines and then evolving into the shush of water on a beach. Bis had jumped us, and I had no idea where we were.

My heart thudded as we slowly stood from our crouch. It was dark, hours before dawn. My feet sank into cool sand. We were on the West Coast? Behind us was the great blackness of the Pacific, before us the extravagant lines of a modern two-story home, wall-to-wall windows facing the beach. The wind lifted through my hair and pulled the heat from the bomb away.

My church, I thought, forcing the lump down. Everyone I loved was safe.

“Ah, where are we, Bis?” Trent said, and I let go of his hand.

Bis shifted his claws, and I winced, not wanting him to know he’d broken skin. “Uh, I hope you don’t mind,” the clever kid said, his wings arching up behind my head in his version of a shrug. “I had to pick somewhere the sun hadn’t come up yet.”

“It’s not Lee’s,” Trent said, and a knot of worry eased as I heard a piano playing the same phrase over and over until something sounded right.

“Alice, what do you think about this?” a familiar voice called out, faint over the surf as the phrase was hammered out again, and I smiled.

“It’s my mom’s,” I said, starting forward, eager and trying not to cry. Bis had taken me home. He’d taken me to my mom.

Chapter 12

I woke for the second time in the same day with a smile on my face. Eyes closed, I stretched a foot down to find Trent’s, feeling his arm over me tighten as I nudged him awake. My mom was cool. The thought of offering us two rooms hadn’t even occurred to her as she fussed and burbled over getting us settled, finding us toothbrushes and me a nightgown. The shower had been heaven, and the cool sheets better than death, as Ivy would have said.

My eyes opened. A deliciously masculine arm was resting on me. Beyond the expansive floor-to-ceiling windows, the sun was nearing noon by the slivers of light leaking in past the half-open blinds. Trent, too, was just waking up, having spent some of his morning talking to Takata before slipping in behind me for a couple of hours. Our usual sleep schedules weren’t compatible at all, but that didn’t seem to matter when you were fighting time-zone shifts and an all-nighter.

All I cared about was that I woke up with Trent beside me for the second time in less than twenty-four hours, and it felt . . . right.

Warm and content, I rolled to face him. The silk of my mom’s nightgown was a soft hush, and when Trent pulled me close, I snuggled in, wishing I had more mornings like this.

“Hi,” I said softly, and his eyes opened. They were brilliant green from behind his tousled hair, clear and rested even if his stubble was thick. It made me feel good to see him that close. His thumb traced tingles down my bare arm, and I tilted my head, finding the soft skin under his throat with my lips and giving a gentle pull.

Suddenly he was a lot more awake. The bed shifted as he found my mouth with his, the kiss lighting through me with a shocking pulse. His hand pressed my shoulder, and my fist tightened at the back of his neck. I was suddenly a lot more awake, too.

“Donald?” echoed in the hallway. “Do we have any more strawberries? They’ve got to come out of there eventually. It’s after noon!”

Breathless, I pulled back. Our lips parted with a sharp smack, and I realized his leg had slipped between mine, almost pinning me—not that I minded. His smile was content as we listened to Takata’s rumbling voice answer my mom, and I snuggled into him. I didn’t particularly want to get up, but even as my mom might have bunked us together, she also wouldn’t have any hesitation about knocking on our door.

My pulse slowed. I listened to Trent’s heartbeat, breathing him in and reluctant to move. I liked waking up like this, but was it realistic to even hope it could last? As in a permanent situation? I knew better than to look for a happily ever after. My track record spoke for itself.

“Still can’t see it?” Trent said.

My lips quirked. “How do you do that?” I asked softly, and his hand traced tingles on my shoulder as he slipped the thin strap down.

“It’s inevitable,” he said, as sensation raced from his touch. “We do well together. For example, what do you want to do today?”

My schedule was already full of handling the unknown, but I sat up, willing to play the game. “Oh, I don’t know,” I said, knowing Trent would be recognized anywhere the moment he set foot in public. “Have strawberries for breakfast, lay out on the beach, maybe do some bikini shopping. A little light dinner on a boat. Go to bed before the sun comes up. Wake around noon and do it again.”

Propped up on an elbow, he smiled and tucked my snarled hair behind an ear. His stubble caught the light, and I wanted to feel its roughness. “See what I mean?” he said, the sheet slipping to show a new and very nice angle of him. “That’s exactly what I want to do.”

Smirking, I scooted down and tucked myself next to him. My real list was a lot different: check the news to see if our fake death gamble worked, make a soul bottle for Ivy, dodge uncomfortable questions from my mom.

Suddenly I realized Trent’s hand was moving, ever moving, against me, running behind my ear with a comfortable security, as if he’d been doing it for years. “There’s absolutely nothing I can do,” he said around a sigh, gazing past me to the private beach. “And a hundred things I should.”

He was worried about his girls, but I couldn’t resist letting my fingers drift downward over his chest. His body tensed, and I smiled. “We should play dead more often. This is the nicest morning I’ve had in a long time.”

“There’s always room for improvement.” Trent’s weight shifted as he leaned over me. His hand made a delicious path of tingles as it slipped up under the hem of the short nightie, settling in a tight grip on my waist. I smiled and reached for him, pulling him down into another kiss.

My eyes closed as I breathed him in. The hint of my mom’s soap made him even more familiar, and my hand made steady progress down his side and thigh before I drifted inward to find him. His breathing changed, and I lingered as his lips left mine, skating down my neck and to my breast.

“Alice, they’re still asleep.” Takata’s voice jerked through me, and Trent jumped.

“They’re three hours ahead of us,” my mom protested. “We’ve got to go, and I’m not going to sneak out of here and leave them a note!”

“So you knock on their door,” Takata grumbled. “Why are you making me do it?”

“Oh, for God’s sake, I’ll do it,” she said, and the sound of her steps rang loudly on the tile. “Watch the waffles, will you? They need to get up.”

Trent looked down at me, his interrupted passion shifting to amusement crinkling the corners of his eyes. “I am up. They need to go away.”

“Sorry,” I said with an apologetic wince, and he rolled to sit up, settling himself beside me with the blankets pulled across his lap.

“Good morning, Ms. Morgan!” Trent said loudly as he stared at the ceiling, and I gave him a backhanded smack.

“See, they’re awake,” I heard her admonish Takata. “Go check the waffles.”

She barely knocked before pushing the door open, and I yanked the blanket up as she peeked in, bringing the scent of maple syrup and cooked batter with her. “Good morning!” she called happily, her hair pulled back and looking more like my sister than my mom in casual jeans and a classy sweater. “Breakfast is ready. You can eat it while it’s hot or let it get cold, but I didn’t want to leave without at least saying good morning.”

“You’re leaving?” I said, grabbing the blanket when Trent threatened to drag it off me.

My mom bustled forward, heels clicking as she went to open the blinds all the way. Sunshine poured in, and my eyes hurt. “We’re catching a flight out this afternoon. Big day today!” She turned, beaming at us. “Damn, you look good together. Rachel, if you screw this up, I’m going to be pissed. Trent has—”

“Mom!” I shouted, and she blinked, turning a slight shade of red. Trent wasn’t helping, and I gave him a pinch to keep quiet when he opened his mouth, presumably to ask what she thought he might have that I might be interested in.

“Sorry,” she said, surprising me. “I just wanted to see you before we left.”

“Where are you going?” I asked again. “I’ve got some spelling to do, and I thought you might be able to help. With the shopping if nothing else.”

“A-A-A-Alice?” Takata shouted. “Where’s the cinnamon?”

Her eyes lit up, and then she frowned, clearly torn. “Oh, I can’t, sweetheart,” she said as she scooped up my jeans from the floor and folded them. “Donald and I have a flight to Cincy in a few hours. I’ve got your funeral to plan.”

“It worked!” Trent exclaimed, and I smiled as my mom’s eyes glowed in anticipation.

“This is going to be fantastic!” she gushed as she fiddled with the fringe on the seventies lamp they had stuck in here. “If I can’t plan your wedding, I can at least arrange your funeral. Donald has a song and everything. You’re going to love it!”

Oh God, she was going to do the eulogy. “Ah, Mom?”

“Get yourself up,” she said as she backed out of the room. “We leave in ten.”

The door clicked shut, and I thumped my head back. I’d never be able to leave my church again. If I had a church to go back to.

Trent threw the covers back and swung his feet to the floor. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said as he stood, every yummy inch of him catching the light from the beach. “Your mom is . . .”

“Is what?” I looked at the slowly rising spot in the bed where he’d been and sighed. Just twenty minutes more. Was that too much to ask?

“Fun,” he said, stretching.

“Uh-huh.” I sat up and wrangled my hair back into a scrunchy. “Picture fun on prom night or a PTA meeting. My mom was an active parent.”

Head down, I scuffed past Trent toward the attached bathroom. I’d told Ivy we were bugging out, and I hadn’t called her since, not wanting to blow our story of being dead. But now, after a handful of hours, I probably should tell her we were okay. Even the six hours it would take for my mom to get there was too long to have her worry.

I gasped when Trent snagged me, pulling me, bouncing, back onto the bed. My breath came in fast as his weight pinned me, and I gazed up at him, feeling desired as the entire length of his body pressed into me. “I like you in the morning the best,” he said, eyes on my hair as he tucked it away from my face.

I’d give just about anything to have this forever, and I smiled up at him, liking him the best when he was relaxed and happy, stubble and all. “Maybe we should just keep playing dead.”

Silent, his worry slid back behind his eyes. “I’m sorry you saw that yesterday.”

“Saw what?” My fingers played with the rims of his ears. I knew what he was talking about, but sometimes it was better to pretend.

Propped up on his elbow, he took my fingers in his and kissed them. “With the vampire.”

My breath came in fast, and I tilted my head, trying to catch his eyes with mine. “It wasn’t anything I didn’t know was there.”

“It . . . I promised myself—”

“Trent.” I pulled him to me, finding his lips with mine, feeling a thrill coil down through me and rebound against his own desires. Slowly I eased back into the pillow, but his eyes were just as worried, just as furtive. “I know who you are. And I love you.”

His eyes darted to mine, and the first hints of a smile eased his worry. “I don’t deserve you,” he said, sitting up and pulling me into a heartfelt embrace. “I love you, too,” he whispered, his warmth tingling between us as he held me close.

“Waffles are out!” came faintly through the walls.

My throat was tight. I gave him a final squeeze and his arms eased their grip. I wanted this to last, but even now I knew better than to hope. Trent gallantly held my robe out for me to shrug into, tying it with a suggestive firmness before finding his own robe. Disheveled and feeling odd, I followed him out of our tiny space and into the world again, my hand loosely in his as if I was afraid that if I let go, I’d lose him right then.

I’d gotten the full tour last night, or this morning rather, but seeing Takata’s home in the daylight only accentuated the clean lines, spacious rooms, and sparse but comfortable furnishings. It didn’t look much like my mom’s old house, but my mom didn’t look much like herself either. She was wearing trendier clothes and had a far more relaxed smile. Losing the emotional baggage in Cincinnati suited her.

The kitchen was bigger than mine, with rich wood and gleaming metals. It opened up to a lower living room, three sides of which were glass looking out onto what had to be a private beach since I hadn’t seen anyone on it yet. The ceilings were high, and the second story where the bedrooms were overlooked it. A piano took up one bright corner, and a small library the other. Between them, a TV was turned to the news, and as we entered, Takata muted it from behind the kitchen counter.

Takata smiled as he took off his apron, still shy over my finding out he was my birth father. Most of his more famous songs had their inspiration in what he’d lost by giving me and my brother to his best friend and the only woman he’d ever loved. Now my father was dead, and though my mother missed him, it was good to see her in love again. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">