The Source (Witching Savannah #2)

The Source (Witching Savannah #2) Page 6

“Don’t start,” I said. “I am so not in the mood.” His words cut too close. The smoke issuing from the apple’s powdery remains reminded me of the scent of the old man’s charred flesh.

“You are willful,” he said ignoring me. “You are stubborn. You are unfocused. The families have asked me when you will be ready to take over as the line’s anchor. I’ll have to tell them I don’t know. That you haven’t given me any time. That you haven’t given your magic any time.”

I felt my temper flaring, heat rising up all around us. There was a rattling noise from behind me—the sound of the dishes in the cupboard beginning to shake.

“Good. Good,” Emmet shouted and pushed away from the table. “You are full of power. Full of emotion. Now let’s see you control either one of those things.” He stepped up to me, getting right in my face. I clenched my hands, feeling a nearly electric fire build up in them. Cupboard doors opened and slammed shut. A glass fell to the floor and shattered, sending tiny shards into the air where they hung like deadly little prisms. I grew terrified of my own rage. I was acting out magically in a way I’d never allowed myself to behave before my magic had been returned to me.

Emmet reached forward and grabbed my wrists. He towered over me. His black eyes burned into me with a look of . . . what? Anger? He leaned in close.

“What’s going on here?” Peter’s voice shot into the room. I turned to see him at the doorway, and the shards of glass fell to the floor like so many raindrops. The dishes stopped rattling. Quiet returned.

Emmet released my wrists and spoke. “We are training. You should not be here.”

Peter stomped into the room and put a possessive hand on my shoulder. “Don’t tell me where I should and should not be, and don’t tell me that what I saw going on in here was ‘training.’ I know Mercy, and I know when she is pissed. I don’t need to see the kitchen getting shaken apart to know.”

“She has to learn how to control her magic. To do that she has to learn to control her passions.”

“She’s pregnant. She doesn’t need this kind of stress placed on her.”

“She,” I said, “is sitting right here. And she can speak for herself,” I said to Peter, but caressed his arm while saying it. I loved the way he wanted to protect me, even in the face of something that I myself hadn’t yet been able to comprehend or control. Deep down, I knew Emmet was right. I had to learn to control the energy flowing through me. The hole in the chest of the poor old man I’d been trying to help proved that well enough. I wished I could talk to Emmet about what had happened, but his disapproval would rain down on me. I wished I could share what had happened with Peter, but he would just worry for me.

“All the same,” Peter said, “I’m getting you out of here.” He pulled my chair back and lifted me to my feet.

“We aren’t done. We haven’t even really started,” Emmet said. He crossed his arms and leaned casually against the refrigerator. He appeared thoroughly composed. Infuriatingly relaxed.

“Oh, you are done.” Peter guided me toward the door. As he ushered me over the threshold, I turned back and caught a glimpse of Emmet. If I didn’t know it was impossible, I would have sworn I registered a look of jealousy.

“I’m going to have to deal with him sooner or later,” I said.

“But not now. I don’t know what was going on in there, but I don’t want you to spend any more time with that guy. It’s not good for you or the baby.”

“The families want him to work with me. Teach me how to use my magic. How else will I ever be able to take over as the line’s anchor?”

“I don’t give a damn what the families want, Mercy.” He stopped walking and turned me toward him. “I care about our family. You and the baby and me. That’s all I care about.”

“Me too,” I said, and then leaned forward to kiss him. His eyes lit up, green and blue and warm and loving. “But I need to learn how to control this magic inside me. You saw me in there. I need to step up and fulfill my duty. The line wanted me. It chose me. I know it sounds crazy, but it believes in me, and there haven’t been many people in my life who do.”

“I’ve always believed in you. Magic. No magic. I’ve always believed in you, and I always will.”

“I know. I know that,” I said.

“Good.” He paused. “Listen, I am aware this isn’t the best time to bring this up, but I came over this morning for a reason.” He hesitated, trying to find the right words.

“Go ahead. Spit it out.”

He nodded once. “My boss found out about the moonlighting I’ve been doing on the weekends, and he told me I had to make a choice. And I have. I’ve decided to leave my job and work full-time on my own company. I want to build a future for us, Mercy, create a legacy for Colin. I don’t want to be somebody else’s lackey anymore.”

“That’s great.” I would have felt better about the decision if he’d discussed it with me first, but I would have encouraged him to do just that if he had talked to me about it.

“Well, hold on. There’s a bit more.” He took a few steps away from me and leaned against his truck. “I can handle small stuff by myself, but I’m not set up for the type of work I need to bring in. And I don’t have the money to go out and buy equipment and hire folk on my own.”

“That isn’t a problem. Like I told you, I have plenty of money now that I get access to the family funds.” I had been astounded by the size of the monthly checks. When the first one had arrived, I’d assumed it constituted payment for the full year. I had grown up without ever realizing how wealthy my family was. Maybe that was a good thing.

“No,” Peter said, pointing his index finger at me. “I’ve told you how I feel about taking money from you. Please understand, I need your faith and support, but I need to be able to stand on my own two feet.”

“Okay. I understand. At least I think I do.” I couldn’t help but smile.

A look of relief flooded his face, but then his brows knit back together. “I’ve found a partner. Someone who can back me financially. More importantly, he has a project, a big one, he wants completed. Immediately.”

His hesitancy waved a red flag. This was why he had cut me out of the decision process. “And who is this ‘someone’?”

“Tucker,” he said as my mouth fell open. “Tucker Perry.”

“You have got to be kidding me,” I said, spinning around, about ready to storm back into the house until I realized Emmet would still be in there waiting for me and was probably enjoying every minute of this display. “That man is harder to shake off than a deep woods tick,” I said, nearly causing a smile to form on Peter’s lips. I flashed him a look that put that expression to bed.

Tucker was my Aunt Ellen’s on-again, off-again boyfriend. Right now it was off, and I prayed to my maker that it would stay that way. Too suave, too sure of himself. Along with being a lawyer and a real estate developer, Tucker was a professional seducer. He had bedded a good percentage of Savannah’s female population and a respectable number of the men as well. Once he’d even hit on my fiancé and me, prompting Ellen to threaten to turn him into a capon if he didn’t leave us be. Tucker was a predator, a smooth and oily snake. It was fair to say I wasn’t overly fond of him. The thought that Peter would take him on as partner fell beyond my ability to comprehend.