Hugh (Her Warlock Protector) Read online

  “Noobie,” he muttered, shooing him away, but the poodle seemed to have the right effect.

  Phoenix’s eyes fluttered open, and she gasped, trying to sit up.

  “Take it easy,” he said, holding on to her. “Just relax.”

  Though she struggled for a second, she didn’t really have the strength.

  “I need to get up,” she said.

  “In a minute,” he said. “Just sit still.”

  The boy on the gurney had seen Noobie.

  “Dog!” he crowed.

  As though he knew his duty and yet didn’t want to do it, Noobie looked torn.

  “It’s okay, boy,” Hugh said to him. “I’ve got her.”

  Noobie went to the gurney and lifted his head within reach of the delighted boy.

  Hugh looked down at Phoenix. A little color had returned to her cheeks. She clung to one of his arms, and he realized how light she was in his grasp. Her breathing had slowed.

  “I’m all right,” she said, though her voice was shaky.

  “Why don’t you let the doctor be the judge of that?”

  “I’m not supposed to be in here.”

  “Me either, but here we are.” He smiled down at her. “Is it so bad?”

  “Oh, being held by Dr. Gorgeous,” she quipped. “Hardly, but–” Her eyes went wide, as though she’d just heard her own words. “I mean, Dr. Colmain. I mean–”

  “Hugh,” he said.

  “I mean Hugh,” she blurted out.

  Her face turned a cherry red. “Please,” she said. “Before I embarrass myself any further, would you please help me up?”

  To his surprise, Hugh was reluctant. But he slowly stood, pulling her up with him, keeping her close. She wobbled, closed her eyes for a moment, and clung to him.

  “Whoa,” she whispered.

  “See?” he said quietly.

  The swinging door opened behind them.

  “What’s going on here?”

  Phoenix immediately separated from him, her eyes flying open.

  “I was trying to find Noobie!” she said.

  An orderly had shown up to take the body to the morgue. The young man’s face was puzzled and then angry.

  “Not you,” he said. He pointed at the boy, who was happily tugging on Noobie’s ears. “I was supposed to have a pickup.”

  “Wrong room,” Hugh said, with an ample helping of imperiousness. “Go see the nurse.”

  Though Hugh wasn’t wearing a stethoscope, the doctor voice had worked. The orderly stiffened and grimaced, but backed out. By the time he’d left, Phoenix had Noobie’s leash and was heading to the door.

  “Wait,” Hugh said, but he said it to her back. In moments she was gone.

  “Dog?” the boy behind him said. Hugh turned just in time to see the little face screw up. “Mama,” he warbled, stuffing his fist in his mouth.

  Hugh picked him up and lightly patted his bottom. He took a moment to examine the boy’s chi. It glowed a pastel orange, solid and steady. Hugh placed his fingers on the boy’s tummy. He redirected some of the life energy flowing through the child’s torso to his digestive system, just in case there had been damage. But judging from the color and intensity of the life light he saw, Hugh knew there were no worries. The necromancer had done her work well.

  “Mama,” the little boy said again. “Mama.”

  Hugh smiled down at him as they turned to the door. “Let’s go find her.”

  Chapter 4

  Nix and Noobie trudged into the lobby of her building, sopping wet. Though Noobie shook out his coat, Nix could only flip back her hoodie.

  “Damn El Niño,” she said.

  She’d never known a wetter winter. Trailing drips of water, she crossed the broken linoleum tiles and opened her mailbox. The locks had all busted long ago. She stuck her finger in the hole where it used to be and tugged the door open. She grabbed what little mail there was: a gas bill, a postcard from Viking Cruises, and a pink overdue envelope from the phone company. As she headed for the stairs, she dropped them all in the big trash can.

  Tonight the climb seemed particularly long. The work with the little boy had really drained her. Even so, she smiled. She wished she’d been able to stay and see his mom’s face. Maybe Hugh could tell her about it. She tripped on the step but caught herself.

  “For pity’s sake,” she said. “He’s not even here.”

  But her mind went back to that moment she’d woken in his arms. For maybe the fiftieth time in the last hour, she pictured it. The strong jaw and smokey eyes. The beautiful lips. She shivered and drew her soaked hoodie a little tighter around her. God only knows what he thought of her after her little incident. She sighed as she reached the fourth floor and exited the stairwell.

  The fluorescent ceiling light flickered as she and Noobie passed under it. He was already at their front door, his tail wagging and thumping the wall. Mrs. Mendoza must have heard, because as Nix put her key in the ancient lock and jiggled it to get it to turn, she heard Mrs. Mendoza opening her door: first the chain, then the deadbolt, then the latch, then the knob. The door creaked open. Tiny bells in the plastic Christmas wreath tinkled. Nix opened her own door and let Noobie in.

  “Phoenix, you’re late!” Mrs. Mendoza said. “I was so worried!”

  Nix paused and turned wearily, just as the aroma hit her. Mrs. Mendoza, all of five feet tall and ninety pounds, had emerged into the hallway. Her dark eyes were so black they seemed not to have pupils. But her silver hair gleamed against her deeply brown and wrinkled skin. But it wasn’t her face at which Nix stared. It was the foil covered plate in her hands.

  “I tried to keep this warm for you,” she said, smiling. “Just on the stovetop, you know.”

  As far as Nix knew, none of the ovens worked.

  “Oh Mrs. M,” Nix said, trying to sound exasperated, though her growling stomach made that hard. “You know you don’t have to do that.”

  “Oh come now,” she said, holding out the plate on a dish towel. “You wouldn’t begrudge a little old lady, would you? If you can bring my groceries, why can’t I share them?”

  Nix gratefully took the plate and towel from her. It was a little dance they were getting used to.

  “Thank you, Mrs. M.” She lifted the plate and inhaled. “Oh my god, that smells so good!”

  “Your favorite,” she said, already turning, shaking her head. “The only girl I know who eats breakfast for dinner.”

  “Yes,” Nix said. It was going to be green chiles and eggs! “I mean, thank you Mrs. M!”

  As the door closed, Mrs. Mendoza gave her a smile. “You’d better see to that menagerie of yours.” Then the door closed, and the little wreath tinkled again. The knob locked, then the latch, the dead bolt, and finally the chain.

  Nix hurried into her own apartment, shut the door, and locked it. Though she would have loved dearly to dive into dinner, her ‘menagerie’ needed to eat too. The latest count was two canaries, one turtle, a beta fish, two cats, an iguana, and Noobie. Except for the beta fish, everyone was in the front-room-slash-kitchen. There was no space for furniture, not that she could have afforded it. In the corner was the miniature, potted Christmas tree. On the floor around it were little wrapped gifts, mostly toys.

  She set the plate on the kitchen counter and began the process of filling food bowls.

  Most of the animals were ones that she’d revived. She’d learned early on that some sort of bond was formed. It didn’t do any good to try and hide from the critters. They’d find you. As she made the rounds with the different sacks of food, she couldn’t help but smile. Still soaking wet and more than a little cold, this always came first. No matter what kind of day she’d had, her extended family always cheered her up.

  Peep One and Peep Two still had water but needed seed. Odysseus poked his head outside his shell when she set down the lettuce. Iggy flicked his long tongue in anticipation as she set berries in his bowl. Though neither Limoncello or Kahlua had yet to leave their cat perch,
the crinkle of their food bag brought them running, tails high. She’d feed her beta fish, Rocky in the bathroom, where she kept him, well away from Limoncello and Kahlua.

  For about three seconds she debated whether to eat first or take a shower. Then she was in the kitchen. She ate standing at the counter, since she didn’t have a table or chairs. Gods, Mrs. Mendoza’s cooking was to die for! The corn tortillas were perfect. She’d polished off the entire plate before Noobie even had a chance to beg. She smiled down at him.

  “Next time be quicker,” she said. He turned the sad eyes on her. “Oh no,” she said. “Don’t give me that.”

  But the adorable face had the same effect it always had. She opened a cabinet over the sink, and took down dog biscuits. She could hear his tail thumping on the floor.

  “You did good today,” she said giving him the first one. “As usual.”

  It wasn’t his fault she’d ignored him. But in the end, it’d worked out. She thought of Hugh again.

  “Yeah, it worked out all right,” she muttered. “Wow.”

  If she tried hard enough, she could feel his arms around her. Actually, she didn’t have to try at all.

  Noobie took the second biscuit from her fingers.

  “Oh right,” she said. “Sorry.”

  She took a deep breath, and put the biscuits away. Everybody else had finished eating too. Though she was tired, she hadn’t visited with any of her animals yet.

  “Shall we see how everybody’s doing?” she asked Noobie.

  Chapter 5

  Without looking like he was waiting, Hugh waited. If Phoenix had exited from the emergency room entrance last night, she’d probably come in the same way in the morning. At least that’s what he hoped. Today he wore the white coat over his blue scrubs, the stethoscope curled into a side pocket. Over the centuries, the uniform had changed, but the fact that one existed hadn’t. Though he enjoyed the current lightweight clothing, truth be told, he missed the Victorian suits the most. In High Street, the uniform had really consisted of the black leather bag.

  As he pretended to look over a chart, he eyed the entrance. It was pouring again. He’d been in Los Angeles plenty of times, and never seen it like this. El Niño people were saying. If he hadn’t known better, he’d suspect a weather witch.

  As the thought of witches came to him, he thought again of Phoenix, not that his thoughts ever wandered far. Clearly, she was a necromancer. It was a rare and powerful Wiccan ability to be sure. But the question remained if she was a rogue or not.

  “Dr. Colmain,” said a soft, female voice. “What a coincidence running into you again.”

  As though she had a homing mechanism, Diana Harris, R.N., had appeared from nowhere. He prepared his most disarming smile before looking up. Her eyes dilated ever so slightly as he gazed into them.

  Though he’d had many specialties over the years, and had attained dozens of medical degrees, his real gift wasn’t medicine per se. Instead it was his Wiccan power: the manipulation of bioplasm. Other doctors were often at a loss as to how his patients healed so well.

  “Diana,” he said pleasantly. “We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”

  He focused on her life force, seeing it flare a bright pink. As though he were looking at an x-ray, he ran his eyes down her body. Her outline under the clothes was visible but, as he concentrated, he was able to see her organs, and then her bones. Though he was scanning head to toe, something on her lung caught his eye. A dark spot.

  “I’m willing to find another meeting spot,” she said, batting her eyelashes, “if you are.”

  “Do you still smoke?” he asked.

  The eyelashes stopped fluttering. “I…I beg your pardon?”

  “When was the last time you had a physical?”

  Now she backed away. “I hardly think–”

  “Not from me,” he said. “I think you should start with your GP.” He held her gaze. “But be sure to mention your medical history. Be sure to mention the chain smoking.”

  She gaped at him, just as Phoenix and Noobie came through the ER sliding glass doors.

  “Look, Doctor,” Diana was saying. “The next time I want medical advice, I’ll ask for it.”

  She strutted off, muttering something about god complex.

  Though he’d wanted to avoid her, he hadn’t actually thought he’d find a malady. He made a mental note to speak with someone in x-ray.

  Phoenix deposited her newspaper umbrella in the trash, as Noobie shook out his coat. Hugh went to a small closet near the nurse’s station and grabbed a couple of towels. As he approached Phoenix, she was taking her badge and lanyard from a pocket. But as Noobie began wagging his tail, she looked up. Her green eyes seemed to light up, and her smile was huge. As he held out a towel to her, he couldn’t help but grin back. That emotion on the sleeve thing was catching.

  “Thanks,” she said.

  As she toweled off her hair, he put his clipboard on the ground, and quickly used the other towel on Noobie’s coat and vest. As he took the used towel from her, he found himself staring. Was the makeup less severe today? Or was it her shiny black hair, all shaken out? The more he saw Phoenix, really saw her, the more he realized how hard she worked on the goth look. For a second he thought about using his power and taking a peek under all the black clothes.

  “Do I have something on my face?” she asked, wiping at her chin.

  “No,” he said, making himself turn away. “Let me toss these.”

  He put them in the soiled textile receptacle. By the time he returned, Phoenix was staring at the floor, hands in the pockets of her hoodie.

  “About last night,” she muttered.

  “I could use a cup of coffee,” he said. “How about you?”

  She jerked her head up, staring at him, lips parted.

  He grinned. “I thought I’d tell you about mom.”

  She mouthed a silent “mom,” then hit her own forehead with her hand. “Oh, mom! Right. Right. I was wondering how she…if she…I mean…” She visibly calmed herself. “Correction: I was wondering about mom.”

  He indicated the way to the cafeteria. “I’ll tell you all about it.”

  Chapter 6

  Though Pastor Ramon Bolivar had been about to call out to Phoenix, he stopped himself. He’d heard the distinctive sound of Noobie’s license tags clinking, and looked up from his desk in the tiny chapel. But as she’d passed, he saw she was with someone. He scowled a little and got up. Carefully, he poked his head out the door. Wasn’t that the visiting plastic surgeon? What was his name? Ramon watched as the man put his hand in the small of Phoenix’s back and escorted her into the cafeteria. Ramon’s hands balled into fists. In seconds, he’d flipped the sign in the hallway to say that the minister was “out” and strode quickly to the cafeteria. Inside, it was crowded. The food court had lines everywhere, people getting breakfast. But it was easy to see the head of that doctor over the top of most everybody else’s.

  What was he doing with Phoenix?

  Someone bumped into Ramon.

  “Excuse me, Father,” the man said.

  Though Ramon wasn’t Catholic, he knew that the solid white collar and black jacket always gave people that impression.

  “Pardon, me,” he mumbled, not correcting him.

  Colmain. That was the man’s name. Ramon maneuvered through the crowd, keeping far back, but able to see him. They were at one of the registers. He was buying breakfast.

  What? How many times had he asked Phoenix? He’d been dying to buy her breakfast, lunch, anything. But she’d always said no, that she and Noobie had to get to work. He blew out an exasperated puff of air, making a couple of people in his vicinity look at him. He turned and grabbed a tray.

  Pastor Ramon Bolivar owed Phoenix his life. Attacked outside his boy’s club downtown, she’d found him on her way home from the bus. Once he’d awoken in his hospital room upstairs, the bits and pieces of the story had come out. He’d been left for dead by his attackers, who’d been
caught: two gang boys who’d been part of the club, and had waited for him to leave. One of them had put a knife right through his aorta. The police had called it a “lucky” stroke, right through the ribs. He should have bled out. Every exterior wound and scar said there was no way he should have survived. But he had.

  His recuperation had been weirdly fast as well. None of the doctors or nurses had any explanation. They just told him to be grateful before they moved on to someone who actually needed their help. But he’d taken their words to heart. He was very grateful. He’d taken the job at the hospital’s chapel as soon as it’d become available, just to be near her––just to be close to Phoenix. In all his life, he’d never fallen in love. Who would have known it’d be with a goth girl, half his age?

  He grabbed a hard boiled egg and apple at random, put them on his tray, and got in line.

  He’d stopped asking her out. She was kind, but she was firm. He appreciated that she didn’t lie. She didn’t want to date him. Okay. Fine.

  But that doctor?

  She needed to be careful. Not everyone in the world was going to be tolerant of witchcraft.

  Ramon paid the cashier.

  Yes, Phoenix was a witch, of that he was sure. He’d done the research until he was half-blind with it. He’d investigated, asked questions, and even outed a few. But never Phoenix. As his research had deepened, and he found himself in increasingly more obscure libraries and private collections, he’d met the Templars. They were holy men, to be sure, but fanatical was too weak a word. Frankly, he found them frightening.

  He perched on a stool at one of the tiny, tall tables next to a column. As he cracked the shell of the egg, he watched them.

  * * *

  • • • • •

  * * *

  “So basically,” Nix said, putting the side of her fork through the cheddar omelette, “she was happy.”