Stone Cold Fox Page 9

  “Look,” she said to Reese. “I have a little money I was saving just in case—enough for a couple cups of coffee or tea. You’ve done so much for me—let me treat you.”

  They were passing by the Friendly Bean coffee place as she spoke and Jo saw the neon OPEN sign blinking in the window. Without waiting for Reese to answer, she opened the front door, causing the bell to jingle, and walked into the shop.

  Inside it was deliciously warm and the scent of freshly roasted coffee pervaded the air like an enticing perfume. There were faded vintage movie posters on the walls and a shelf of lending books with tattered covers in one corner. In the far rear of the establishment was a battered leather couch. It looked like the perfect place to sit and read or just drink coffee or tea. There were also a few little round tables scattered around with people already at them, sipping from thick china mugs. A woman with short dark hair and a no-nonsense attitude was standing behind the glass counter filled with pastries taking orders and making drinks.

  Jo instantly fell in love with the coffee-scented warmth of the place. Even the fact that there was a line of two or three burly workmen types already waiting at the counter couldn’t deter her. She walked up behind them, taking her place in line and fingering the little bit of money she had in her ragged pocket.

  It might be reckless to spend her last cash reserves on something as decadent and unnecessary as a cup of hot tea, but she was feeling good this morning after having her first night’s sleep in a real bed in two weeks. Even the fact that the throbbing between her thighs was more intense than ever and her headache had come back couldn’t completely dampen her mood.

  Behind her, she heard Reese’s voice raised in protest.

  “Jo,” he said. “I really don’t think—”

  “Cooper—Reese Cooper, just the man I wanted to see,” a second voice said.

  Glancing back, Jo saw that a little old lady who had been sitting at one of the round tables had gotten up and was bearing down on Reese.

  “Um, hello Mrs. Landry,” he said. “It’s nice to see you, but if you’ll excuse me—”

  “Now Reese,” she said, ignoring his attempt to get away. “My engine is making this funny noise that really has me worried. It sounds like—click - click - whirrrr - click - click - whirrr. Now what in the world could that be? Do you think it’s my alternator?”

  “Mmm, I thought I smelled something good besides coffee in here.”

  Jo’s head jerked around as she realized the loud masculine voice was talking to her. Her blood seemed to freeze in her veins as she saw the burly man in front of her in line had turned around and was looking her up and down like she was a piece of meat on display at the butcher’s shop.

  “I’m sorry?” she said, giving him her frostiest look.

  “I said, you smell good, girlie. Didn’t know there were any new Juvies in town.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jo said stiffly, trying not to let her terror overcome her. Hey, sweetheart, voices from the past called in her head. You sure are pretty—where are you going? Stay here and talk to us—we won’t hurt you.

  “Oh, I think you do, Juvie.” The man stepped closer to her, invading her personal space. He was big—as big as Reese, she realized—and had a thick, long, Grizzly Adams type beard that hung down almost to his belt buckle. He looked like a lumberjack but the blue work shirt he had on had a little picture of a lightning bolt on the pocket and said, Carl’s Electrical Service.

  “Leave me alone,” Jo said tensely. She could feel the old familiar suffocating fear gathering at the back of her throat—the fear of being attacked again. But along with it there was another emotion—rage. A rage as pure and white-hot as iron in a forge.

  How dare he—how does he have the nerve to come up and harass me like this? Just because he’s bigger than me he thinks he can take what he wants? Well, he’s wrong—they’re all wrong! growled a voice in her head.

  And then something began to happen—something she’d never felt before. There was a tingling in her fingertips, a feeling almost like static electricity waiting to be discharged.

  Jo had known she was a witch from the time she was nineteen, when the attack she’d endured had released her latent powers. But doing witchcraft and casting spells required a lot of work, learning, and preparation. It was true that she could affect things magically and that her spells had serious clout, but they also took time and the proper materials to cast. In other words, she didn’t have power literally at her fingertips, ready to come to her beck and call at a moment’s notice.

  Or did she?

  “Come on now, baby . . .” The burly, bearded guy seemed to have completely forgotten about ordering coffee in favor of harassing Jo. “You wouldn’t be in here smelling like you do if you didn’t want a man. Am I right?”

  “Smelling like I do? What are you talking about?” Jo demanded.

  She had no idea what he was saying—she’d taken a shower that morning. A long, luxurious hot shower with plenty of soap, which was one reason she’d been feeling so good—until now, that was.

  Her headache was suddenly worse, throbbing in her temples like a drum and her fingertips itched and tingled in a strange, disturbing way.

  “How dare you talk to me like that?” she demanded, lifting her chin to glare up at the tall, burly bearded man. “You don’t even know me!”

  “Yeah, but we can fix that, can’t we girlie?” He leered at her. “You smell like you’re hot for it. Want to get out of here right now? I can make you come so hard they’ll hear you screaming on the other end of town.”

  “You . . . you . . .” Jo couldn’t think of anything bad enough to say to him. And his talk about screaming had set off her panic response again. Scream all you want, baby, whispered a voice from her past. There’s nobody out here to hear you.

  “I don’t think the lady’s interested, Carl.” Reese’s deep, familiar voice was filled with a possessive growl Jo had never heard before.

  “What’s it to you, Coop?” The big man’s face wrinkled into a snarl. “You got a claim on this little Juvie? Cause I don’t smell your scent on her.”

  “Doesn’t matter what you smell or don’t smell—she’s not available, and you’re acting like a goddamn asshole hassling her like this,” Reese growled.

  “I’ll do whatever the hell I want, Fox.” The man stepped forward, shoving his face pugnaciously into Reese’s. “I smelled the little Juvie first—she’s mine.”

  “I don’t think so, Bull.” Reese pushed back, standing toe-to-toe with the big, bearded man. “She’s not yours to claim.”

  Suddenly the tingling that had been growing in Jo’s fingertips and the fear and anger inside her seemed to come to a head all at the same time.

  “I’m not anybody’s to claim!” she heard herself snap in a low, intense voice. Putting out both hands, she shoved the two men apart.

  Of course, the gesture was ridiculous. Both Reese and the other man—who he’d first called Carl and then “Bull” for some reason—were head and shoulders taller than her and each man outweighed her by over a hundred pounds. Moving them should’ve been like shoving two huge boulders aside.

  Yet, when her tingling fingertips touched the men, they were thrust backwards with such force that they both went flying in separate directions.

  Reese landed on the battered leather couch at the back of the shop—which was thankfully unoccupied. But Carl—or Bull, or whatever the big man’s name was—went flying straight into the front of the shop. His vast bulk smashed through the glass front counter with its delicious assortment of donuts and sticky buns and coffee cake, making the barista with short dark hair shriek and jump back.

  “Oh!” Jo put her hands to her cheeks, staring in disbelief at the damage she’d wrought. How in the world did she do this? She was a witch, but her powers needed the proper tools and time and incantations to work correctly. She couldn’t just touch people and blow them halfway across the room! Except . . . that was
apparently exactly what she’d just done.

  She ran over to Reese, who was struggling to sit up on the leather couch. There was a dazed, surprised look on his face as he stared at her.

  “Reese?” she gasped, looking him over for injury. “Reese, are you all right? I’m so sorry! I don’t know what happened—nothing like that has ever—”

  “It’s all right. I’m fine.” He got to his feet and grabbed her by the arm, being careful not to touch her bare skin. “Look, we need to get out of here. I’ll come back and settle with the Friendly Bean folks later but for now, it’s best we just go.”

  Before Jo could protest, he towed her out of the shop, leaving the other patrons staring and the angry bearded man struggling in the glass shards and smashed pastries of the shattered counter.

  Chapter Eight

  “Well, well. You two seem to have caused something of a kerfuffle down at the Friendly Bean,” Fiona remarked when they entered The Cougarville Chemist.

  “Word travels fast,” Reese growled, frowning as he scanned the little shop to make sure they were alone. As usual, the pharmacy was crammed with all kinds of healing remedies encompassing Western medicine, Eastern medicine, and everything in between. He threaded his way through the packed shelves and Jo followed him.

  “Always, my dear. This is Cougarville, you know.” Fiona smiled tranquilly. “So what can I do for you, this fine autumn day?”

  Fiona ShadowTree was the closest thing Cougarville had to a medicine woman, and she wore her unofficial title with gravitas and pride. She had auburn hair with streaks of pure silver running through it piled atop her head in an elegant updo and today she was wearing a rich, crimson muumuu with silver beadwork and chunky silver jewelry to match. The white lab coat she wore over her outfit turned it into a strange juxtaposition of mystic wisdom and no-nonsense medicine—but then, that pretty much summed Fiona up in a nutshell.

  Reese didn’t know how old she was—it was impossible to tell—but he had an idea she was much, much older than anyone would guess. He could remember her standing right here at the counter of the Cougarville Chemist back when he was a little kid and his father had told him he had similar memories. Each new generation that grew up in Cougarville learned to trust Fiona and came to her with their problems. He just hoped she could help him and Jo.

  “Well, well, my dear—and who might you be?” Fiona asked, speaking to Jo this time.

  “I . . . I’m Jo. Jocasta Ferrell.” Jo started to put out a hand and then snatched it back quickly before Fiona could take it. “Uh—I’m sorry, I . . .”

  “It’s all right, my dear—you won’t hurt me as you did that rude male at the Friendly Bean.” Reaching over the counter, she took Jo’s hand between both of her own.

  “How . . . how did you know about that?” Jo looked at her in disbelief. “I mean it just happened.”

  “The young lady who works in the Friendly Bean called me to warn me you and Reese here were heading my way.” Fiona smiled tranquilly. “My, you are a powerful one,” she added, focusing on Jo. “I understand you threw Carl Bullond across the room with a simple touch of your hand.”

  “Bullond,” Jo said, sounding stunned. “Is that why . . . why Reese called him ‘Bull’?”

  “Oh no, my dear—Reese was calling him by the name of the animal he Shifts into. A bull—or a Musk Ox to be more exact. A species of Shifter that are, if you will pardon the pun, extremely bull-headed. As I’m afraid you found out for yourself.”

  “I just don’t understand.” Jo shook her head.

  “What don’t you understand my dear?” Fiona asked, leaning forward encouragingly. “Why Carl would approach you so brazenly in the first place or how you managed to toss him across the room with barely a touch?”

  “Any of it.” Jo shook her head. “I don’t understand any of what’s happening to me lately.”

  “Well, let’s see if I can explain. Carl probably smelled your Juvie scent—which is quite strong if I may say so myself—and it emboldened him to try and claim you.”

  “My Juvie scent?” Jo frowned. “What’s that? He did call me a ‘Juvie’ but I didn’t know what he meant. And I had a shower this morning—I shouldn’t smell of anything but soap.”

  Fiona turned her large, dark eyes on Reese, who squirmed uncomfortably.

  “Reese Cooper,” she said severely. “Why didn’t you explain to this poor child what is happening to her?”

  “I don’t know, Fiona . . .” He shifted from foot to foot. “I guess I just thought it would be better coming from you.”

  To his surprise and relief, Fiona gave him another long look, then nodded.

  “Well, as it happens you’re right. But first I need to know everything that’s happened to you, my dear,” she said to Jo. “Let’s start from the beginning, as they say, and we’ll work it out together.”

  * * *

  Jo looked at her uncertainly for a long moment. Should she trust the older woman behind the counter? It was clear that Reese trusted her implicitly and she had power, Jo could feel it like a warm tingling when Fiona touched her hand. But should she really pour out her life’s story to a woman she’d just met?

  Not all of it, she told herself. I’ll tell her about how this whole thing started in Avalon and how I was kicked out but I won’t tell her about anything before.

  Finally, she nodded.

  “All right,” she said. “I’ll tell you, but . . .” She glanced out the plate glass window of the pharmacy. “What if that, uh, Bull guy comes looking for me? He was pretty angry and this isn’t exactly a big town—he’ll find me if he wants to.”

  Fiona’s big dark eyes flashed.

  “Oh, Carl Bullond knows better than to come troubling anyone in my shop, my dear. But just in case, Reese, if you would put out the BE RIGHT BACK sign on the front door?”

  “Sure.” Reese went to the front of the shop and flipped the hanging card around before coming back to the counter.

  “Now then, my dear,” Fiona smiled tranquilly. “Would you like to come to the back of my shop? It’s a little cluttered, I’m afraid, but I have a place to sit there and a teapot. I believe you’d like a nice cup of tea, wouldn’t you?”

  “Yes.” Jo smiled at her tentatively. “Yes, I would.”

  “All right.” Fiona made a motion. “Come on back.”

  The back of the little shop was bigger than Jo could have imagined and it was completely crammed with big, dusty books, stacks of paper, piles of bones, heaps of shells, strings of dried herbs, jars of exotic ingredients, and other things perfect for spell and medicine work. It was a witch’s dream come true, and Jo couldn’t help stopping to exclaim over this or that as Fiona led them back.

  “Is this a real lump of pure, undiluted ambergris?” she asked, stopping in front of a wide mouthed jar holding a large, grayish-yellow mass as big as her fist.

  “Why, yes it is, my dear.” Fiona seemed pleased. “That came from a narwhal, as a matter of fact.”

  “And, oh look!” Jo rushed over to another shelf and picked up an oval crystal cut into many beautiful facets. It was as big as her thumb and glittered green when she turned it one way and then red when she turned it another. “Alexandrite!” she exclaimed. “I’ve heard of its healing properties but I’ve never seen any.”

  “It’s very rare, as I’m sure you know.” Fiona smiled. “I keep that for my cure-all potion. You simply let the stone sit in the cauldron of potion overnight so that it can convey some of its healing essence and remove before bottling.”

  “This is amazing!” Jo spun around slowly, taking in all the ingredients. “You have about a hundred times more spell and healing materials than we had in Avalon.”

  “Is that where you came from, Jocasta?” The older woman’s voice was quiet.

  “Well, yes.” Jo bit her lip. “I lived there for over twenty years. Until . . . until they kicked me out.”

  “Why did they kick you out?” Reese asked. He had been following silently and he sound
ed curious but not judgmental, which was nice.

  “They accused me . . .” Jo took a deep breath. “They accused me of working dark magic. But I wasn’t—and I wouldn’t,” she added hastily. “I would never—”

  “Of course you wouldn’t, my dear. The energy that comes from you is pure and light.” Fiona put a hand on her arm and squeezed comfortingly. “Ah, here we are. Why don’t the two of you have a seat and I’ll get the tea.”

  She sat the two of them beside a surprisingly neat desk—plainly her work area—and bustled off for a moment to yet another inner room, making Jo wonder exactly how many rooms were in the little pharmacy. When she returned, she was carrying a tray that had a pot of steaming tea, some cups, sugar lumps, and a plate full of what appeared to be homemade shortbread cookies.

  “Now then.” She sat down the tray and started pouring tea. “Why don’t you start from the beginning, Jocasta dear? Who accused you of doing dark magic and why?”

  “Well . . .” Jo took the teacup she was being offered and breathed in the warm steam coming from it. The soothing scent of bergamot calmed her at once—Earl Grey had always been her favorite. “It started about a month ago,” she told Fiona and the silently listening Reese. “When the silver in my hair started disappearing.” She gestured at Fiona’s regal hairdo. “I had a streak of pure silver—a lot like yours—right here, on the right side.” She touched her right temple, which was throbbing with the familiar headache which never seemed to leave her for long, to show what she meant. “I’ve had it since I was in my thirties—I’m forty-one now.”

  “I see.” Fiona looked interested. “And it started to fade?”

  “It started to go back to my normal red color. Just little by little, the silver streak started to shrink.” Jo frowned and shrugged. “I didn’t think anything of it at first. But Bianca—she’s one of the Elder Witches there at Avalon—noticed it. And the next thing I knew, I was being called to the Elders’ Council.”