A Charmed Life (Coven Corner #3) Page 6

  Hazel scooped her up, carrying her to the bedroom. She buried her fingers in Belladonna’s fur and golden sparks of magic like static electricity glowed in the night.

  “Did you enjoy your Mabon nap?” Hazel said, depositing Belladonna on the bed.

  Hazel changed out of her clothes and into her nightgown, sinking into her pillow. Belladonna curled up behind the crook of her knees and began to purr.

  Hazel closed her eyes, hoping sleep would come quickly so she didn’t have to replay the evenings events. But she lay in bed wide awake, staring at the ceiling as one hour slipped into another and another, haunted by the image of Nick leaving her in that orchard.

  ***

  The start of a new week was a relief when it finally came around. Hazel was eager to set her mind to thinking of something besides Nick. And her students would no doubt keep her busy.

  But on Sunday night, as Hazel struggled to fall asleep once again, the phone rang.

  The sound was jarringly loud in the dark. Most witches and warlocks communicated through a crystal ball or with a note sent by bird. But Hazel had a few students with human parents that required regular methods of communication to get in contact with her when needed.

  Why one of those parents would be contacting her at two o’clock in the morning on the eve before a school day had warning bells of impending trouble going off in Hazel’s thoughts.

  She scrambled for the phone on her nightstand and answered it.

  “Hazel Aven speaking,” she said.

  “Miss Aven, it’s Nick.”

  Nick’s voice sounded strained and somewhat muffled, as if he was whispering. A crash echoed in the background followed by a scream.

  Hazel sat up, shoved the blankets aside.

  “Nick, what’s going on?” she said.

  “Phoebe had a nightmare. I can’t calm her down. I can’t find Luna either. She bolted as soon as Phoebe started screaming…”

  Another scream, this time riddled with terror, pain, fear.

  Hazel was on her feet in a heartbeat. She grabbed her black silk robe and cast a spell to tie it around her waist. A witch in emotional distress was not a good combination. All sorts of things could go haywire, especially with how strong Phoebe was with her magic.

  “Tell me what’s happening right now,” Hazel said, grabbing her wand from the nightstand and stowing it in her pocket. “Is Phoebe using magic?”

  “Yes, she’s…”

  He swore follow by a rattling clank.

  “Nick?” Hazel said. “Are you there?”

  No answer. Faint voices could be heard in the background but Hazel couldn’t make them out. More crashes and more screaming.

  Hazel marched into the hallway, snatched up her broom, and stepped out of her house. She hadn’t bothered to grab her boots or a coat and the cold air made her shrink back. But Hazel tucked the phone between her ear and shoulder, gripped her broom in both hands and she rocketed into the air.

  It took only minutes to reach Nick’s house but it felt like hours as Hazel continually tried to contact him only to receive no response. She could hear Phoebe’s voice, high-pitched and scared, but she couldn’t understand what was being said. It was too indistinct.

  When Nick’s house came into view, the windows were pulsing with purple and orange light. And the entire building was hovering, lifted off of its foundations to float in the air.

  Hazel skidded to a stop on the porch, the floor bucking underneath her. She released her broom and it clattered to the ground as she yanked the door opened.

  “Nick? Phoebe?” she called.

  “We’re in Phoebe’s room!” Nick called from upstairs.

  The house pitched and a fresh wail came from Phoebe. Hazel took the stairs two at a time.

  She found Nick on the floor, cradling a sobbing Phoebe in his arms, stroking her hair and kissing the top of her head as he attempted to whisper soothingly to her.

  “It’s okay, sweetheart,” he said. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

  Clutched tightly in Phoebe’s fist was her wand. She held it like a weapon, like a sword. Magic poured from it in a stream of green sparks, turning the entire room upside down.

  A mattress floated on the ceiling. Spellbooks and toys hovered in mid-air.

  Tears coursed down Phoebe’s face. With each hiccup, a floating object—books, toys, clothes, pillows—slammed into the walls.

  Nick raised his gaze to meet Hazel’s, imploring her for help.

  Hazel knelt on the floor across from him and pressed her hand to Phoebe’s forehead. Phoebe’s skin was blistering with magical heat and not from a spelled fever this time. She had so much magic coursing through her that the power of it was burning her up.

  Hazel pressed a kiss to Phoebe’s forehead and touched her hand that still gripped her wand like a weapon.

  “Phoebe,” she said as gently as she could. “You have to give me your wand for safe keeping, all right?”

  Phoebe shook her head and sniffed. “Mama gave it to me. It’s just like hers.”

  Nick closed his eyes and bowed his head, resting his cheek on top of Phoebe’s head.

  “It’s all right, sweetie,” he said. “Miss Aven just wants to keep you safe. She’ll give the wand back when you’re feeling better.”

  Slowly, Phoebe uncurled her fingers one by one. Then she passed the wand into Hazel’s hand. She turned and burrowed deeper into Nick’s arms.

  Hazel stowed Phoebe’s wand in her pocket and withdrew her own wand. She cast a spell to counter-act the levitating objects and sent everything upright, tucked neatly back in their proper places. Then she returned her attention to Phoebe and placed a hand on her shoulder.

  “Would you like to talk about what’s bothering you?” Hazel said.

  Phoebe didn’t respond at first. She wrapped her arms a little tighter around Nick’s neck. Then she raised her head and peeked at Hazel with one eye, her cheek wet with tears.

  “I miss Mama,” she whispered. “I wanted to show her Luna. She’d like Luna. But she’s not here. Daddy never says so but I know she’s not coming back. Ever.”

  Phoebe’s voice cracked on the last word.

  To Hazel’s surprise, Phoebe broke away from Nick and crawled into Hazel’s arms. She curled up on Hazel’s lap and slipped her hand into Hazel’s palm, small fingers holding on tight.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Phoebe fell asleep in Hazel’s arms. Hazel didn’t dare move as Phoebe’s head rested on her shoulder, Phoebe’s arm hooked around her waist, clutching at Hazel’s bathrobe.

  When Hazel’s legs began to go numb from kneeling on the floor for so long, she attempted to shift and lean back against the bed for support. But Phoebe whimpered, burrowing further into Hazel’s shoulder with a small whine.

  Nick placed his hand on Phoebe’s back as he stood. He retrieved a pillow from Phoebe’s bed and reached out toward Hazel’s shoulder only to stop an inch away from touching her. He cleared his throat to get her attention instead.

  Hazel glanced up at him, eyebrows raised in a silent question. He pointed to the pillow.

  “For your back,” he whispered.

  Hazel nodded and leaned forward just enough for Nick to tuck the pillow behind her. She noticed he was very careful to not touch her in any way.

  “Better?” he said.

  “Yes, thank you,” she whispered back, stroking Phoebe’s hair away from her damp cheek.

  Nick perched on the edge of Phoebe’s bed for a moment, his elbows propped on his knees.

  “How often do these nightmares happen?” Hazel said.

  Nick shook his head. “Nearly every night after Marissa left. But they’ve tapered off to maybe once a month. I thought that school was helping. And when she picked out Luna, I was so sure she would never have another one again.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Guess I was wrong.”

  Hazel glanced down to see Phoebe’s eyes closed, her dark lashes shadowed against her flushed cheek. Something in Haze
l’s chest squeezed. She’d seen students in distress before but this felt different, deeper, on a level that hurt Hazel nearly as much as it hurt Phoebe.

  “Does she have any contact with her mother?” Hazel said softly.

  She didn’t look at Nick as she spoke. She knew the unpleasant impact that question would have.

  “No,” Nick replied, his voice gruff. “Marissa hasn’t contacted either of us in three years.”

  He pushed to his feet, massaging one shoulder with a grimace.

  “I think I’ll go get some coffee started,” he said.

  Hazel didn’t protest as Nick made his escape to the kitchen. No doubt he needed a reprieve after many hours with Phoebe. The strain would be exhausting.

  Hazel gathered Phoebe up into her arms. She was surprisingly light and the scent of sage and peppermint lingered in her hair.

  As Hazel tucked Phoebe into bed, Phoebe’s fingers curled around Hazel’s wrist.

  “Don’t leave,” she whimpered.

  Hazel knelt beside the bed and pressed the back of her hand to Phoebe’s cheek.

  “I’m right here, Phoebe,” she whispered. “I’ll always be here for you.”

  Phoebe gave a sleepy sigh and wiggled deeper into her pillow, never releasing her grip on Hazel’s wrist. Hazel trailed one fingertip along Phoebe’s nose, across her cheekbone, and down her chin. She watched the steady rise and fall of Phoebe’s chest as she slipped further into sleep, calm, relaxed, and quiet—worlds apart from the chaos from before.

  Once Phoebe was asleep, Hazel slowly released herself from Phoebe’s grip. She tucked the blankets a little tighter beneath Phoebe’s chin and kissed her forehead.

  “I’ll be downstairs if you need me,” Hazel whispered.

  She took one last lingering glance at Phoebe before she slipped out of the room and down the stairs. When she reached the kitchen, she found Nick sitting at the kitchen table, his head in his hands.

  Hazel knocked on the doorframe of the kitchen. Nick startled. His head snapped up, his eyes glazed over with exhaustion, taking too long to focus. The coffee maker was on the counter, half full of water but it remained off.

  “I didn’t mean to spook you,” Hazel said.

  She moved to the counter, took out her wand, and tapped the coffee maker with a spell. Within a minute, she had two cups of hot steaming coffee in hand. She placed a cup in front of Nick as she took a chair beside him.

  “I don’t know what else to do for her,” Nick said. His voice was gravel-rough. A shadow of stubble had formed along his jaw, rendering his features a little darker, a little more worn around the edges.

  “You’re already doing everything you can,” Hazel said.

  “Doesn’t feel like enough.”

  “Because she has to work out a few things on her own, too. You can’t solve her problems. And Phoebe can’t cast a spell to magically make everything sunshine and rainbows.”

  Nick huffed a dry laugh. “Then what am I sending her to school for?”

  Hazel smiled faintly and propped her elbows on the table.

  “Magic isn’t a cure-all. I wish it was. Phoebe is just like you in so many ways. She simply has different…talents. You fix cars for a living. You can make a broken-down engine run again. That’s a form of magic. For Phoebe, she can manipulate energy and harness power. Yes, Phoebe is a witch. But at heart, she’s just a scared little girl who doesn’t want to lose her father like she lost her mother.”

  Nick didn’t respond. He stared at Hazel, searching her face. Then he finally nodded.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  “I’m glad I could help,” Hazel replied. She pushed her chair back and tugged her robe a little tighter around her. “It’s nearly sunrise. I should head back. Keep Phoebe home from school for today. She’ll be too tired to focus anyway. And if anything else goes wrong, let me know.”

  “I’ll drive you home.”

  Nick scrambled up from his chair, already moving toward the door.

  “That’s not necessary—”

  “It’s cold and you don’t even have a coat.” Nick’s gaze drifted down to her thin black silk robe then darted away again.

  Without thinking, Hazel caught his hand to stop him. Nick went stock-still.

  “Stay with Phoebe,” she said. “I’ll be fine.”

  Nick glanced down at their joined hands. Hazel began to withdraw but Nick interlaced his fingers with hers, his thumb skimming across her knuckles.

  “Hazel,” he whispered.

  The first time he’d used her name and not ‘Miss Aven’. Hazel wanted to hear it again, even though she knew she had no right to. The soft, hushed way he said it, like a promise.

  Nick stepped toward her and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, trailing his thumb along her jawline. Hazel’s eyes slid closed.

  Don’t do this, she told herself.

  But when she opened her eyes, Nick was so warm and so close. And she melted right into him.

  Nick cupped her cheek in one hand and shifted closer until his hip bumped against hers. His breath fanned across her lips and she leaned into him, closing that last miniscule scrap of distance to kiss him.

  Nick kissed her back, slow and careful. Hazel nipped at his bottom lip, hungry for more now that she’d had only a small taste of him. One kiss was all it took. She never wanted to stop kissing him again, to go back to that desolate emptiness she’d existed in before this moment.

  Nick’s hand skimmed down her arm and curved around her waist, drawing her in even closer. Hazel sighed into his mouth and she could feel a small smile begin to curve his lips.

  A thump echoed from upstairs.

  “Daddy?” Phoebe called in a wavering voice.

  It was like a shock of cold water.

  Hazel jerked away from Nick, touching her lips as if he’d burned her.

  “Phoebe,” Hazel whispered, horrified.

  Her gaze darted to the stairwell but Phoebe wasn’t there. She hadn’t seen the kiss. But that didn’t lessen Hazel’s guilt. It didn’t erase what she’d done.

  Nick reached out and cradled Hazel’s elbow.

  “It’s okay,” he said. “She’ll understand. You saw how she reacted to you tonight.”

  Hazel shook her head as she retreated.

  “No, that…I shouldn’t have done that,” she said. “It wasn’t professional and I—”

  She broke off, spun around, and heading for the door.

  “Hazel, wait,” Nick said, part plea.

  She could feel him getting close—smell the citrus of his soap, feel that wonderfully addictive heat of his skin emanating from him. She turned and put a hand up.

  Nick slid to a stop.

  “I can’t,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

  Then Hazel ran out the door.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Hazel flew straight to Bryony’s house. It was a humble, two-bedroom cottage, buried deep in the heart of the woodland on Pagan Posies property. A creek bubbled nearby, peppered with red autumn leaves that drifted and swirled in the clear water, clinging to fat, mossy boulders.

  The house had been hewn from pine logs, lending the building a soft, muted golden color. Window boxes were full to bursting with herbs and flowers, even this late into the growing season, thanks to Bryony’s earth magic abilities. And a kitchen garden sprawled off of one side of the house, trailing with vines and spilling over with pumpkins, gourds, and sunflowers.

  Hazel clattered onto the porch, shivering, and pounded on the door.

  Seconds later, shuffling footsteps whispered inside the house. The door opened to reveal Sean, clad in sweatpants and a thin gray t-shirt, squinting at her with one eye open, his gaze unfocused with lingering sleep.

  “Hazel?” he said. “What are you doing here?”

  “I need to speak to Bryony. As soon as possible.”

  “Sure, I’ll go get her. Come in. It’s freezing out there and you’re…”

  He trailed off as he took in the sight of her, w
earing a flimsy silk robe, nightgown fluttering just past her knees. Sean had never seen her like this—hair unbound and swirling around her face, unkempt and fraying at the edges. He’d always seen her as Bryony’s aloof, proper friend, the strict school teacher who didn’t let poor behavior go uncorrected.

  “I know,” Hazel said. “It’s a bit of an emergency.”

  Sean scrubbed a hand over his face and he blinked, his expression growing serious. He moved aside for Hazel to enter the house.

  Hazel stepped into the house to find herself in the living room with an apple red braided rug spread across the floor, a musty but comfortable couch tucked in one corner, and a spray of houseplants nestled at the center of the room. A few were orchids and cacti from the Pagan Posies tropical greenhouse. Others were cooking herbs. At the center was a dwarf apple tree, with pale yellow fruit nestled in the branches.

  Sean pulled a quilt off of the back of the couch and draped it over Hazel’s shoulders.

  “I’ll get Bryony up,” he said. He squeezed her shoulders and disappeared around the corner to the master bedroom.

  Seconds later, Bryony came sliding into the living room on socked feet, her hair a wild mess, wearing an oversized t-shirt that read, NO REST FOR THE WICKED.

  “What is it?” Bryony demanded. “What’s wrong?”

  “I kissed him,” Hazel said in a tremulous voice. “I kissed Nick Butler.”

  Bryony stood frozen for a moment. Then she blew out a breath and rubbed her palms against her eyes. She flopped onto the couch with a sigh.

  “Well, it’s about time,” she said.

  “Bryony!”

  Bryony spread her hands. “What?”

  “This is bad!” Hazel hissed.

  Sean shuffled out of the bedroom again, fully dressed this time in jeans and a brown Henley, and held up a hand.

  “Don’t mind me,” he said. “I’m just getting the coffee started and I’ll be making myself scarce.”

  “That’s not necessary, babe, you know that,” Bryony called as he headed for the kitchen.

  “Yeah, but I promised Seline I’d help her make caramel pancakes this morning. So I’d better get a move on anyway.”