A Witch's Tale (5 page)

“Well, no, not exactly.
I’ve known a couple of guys who had dogs, but, well, Mom and I never managed to stay in one place long enough to acquire pets.”

His brief statement told Cassie so much.
A single mom, perhaps an only child, always on the move, never putting down roots.
No wonder he had such a melancholy air about him.

“We do have several good books on how to train your dog,” she suggested.

“Right.
I’ll have to buy a couple.
But what I had in mind was more in the line of private lessons.
I thought maybe you could spare a little time.
How about giving me a quick class in puppy care over lunch?”

The intensity of his gaze far outweighed the light banter of his words.
A smile slowly lifted the edges of her mouth as she nodded her acceptance.

She had planned on staying close to the store today, out of the public eye as much as possible.
In fact, she and Shelly hadn’t been sure they should have even opened shop, given the horrible cloud of suspicion that hovered over them.
But there was absolutely no way she could refuse him.
The magnetic force between them seemed to have taken on a life of its own.

A fresh sea-salty breeze greeted Cassie and Mac as they stepped out of the shop.
The warm late summer sun cast nourishing rays upon them.
Cassie turned her face to the sun.
Drawing in a lung full of air, she drank deeply from nature’s gifts.
She felt her spirits lifting, allowing her to let go for the
moment the unyielding burden that had engulfed her ever since she had opened the door late last night to Sheriff Whitaker’s insistent rapping.

Becoming one with nature always restored her, she reminded herself when the thought that Mac’s presence might partially explain her sudden surge of happiness.
And since the coven’s desperate situation was not likely to dissolve into thin air simply because it was a beautiful day, Cassie realized these warm sensations would be but a transitory respite.

“Great!
Now what do I do?” Mac’s annoyed voice broke into her thoughts.
Glancing over her shoulder, she was surprised to see him standing several feet behind her.
While the man was quite obviously exasperated, the dog appeared to be thoroughly enjoying himself.

She managed to keep from laughing at the sight the energetic pup and the frustrated man made, but it wasn’t easy.
It had taken
Sarge
less tha
n ten seconds to wrap the leash tightly around Mac’s ankles, preventing his new master from taking a single step.

Barely able to control the upward twitching of her mouth, Cassie eyed the short distance they had traveled.
Mac hadn’t
exaggerated, she realized.
He hadn’t a clue what to do with a dog.
She definitely had her work cut out for her!

Mac watched Cassie try to anchor the paper wrapper on her tofu burger before the gusty wind whipped it out of her grasp.
Though the wind was a nuisance, he welcomed it, enjoying the way the stiff breeze played with Cassie’s hair.

Get back to
reality
,
he reprimanded himself, as he pulled his attention away from the beauty that was Cassie.
All this was well and good, but it wasn’t getting him much in the way of a story.

“The talk around town is that you’re one of those so-called Port
Bellmont
witches,” Mac plunged in with the subject matter that had brought him to Port
Bellmont
.

“I am.
Does that bother you?” she challenged.

“Nah, I’ve had my inoculation against witches, werewolves and vampires updated recently.”

“That’s good.
But don’t forget to always wear a solid gold cross when I’m near.
And you must get yourself a garlic necklace.
You wouldn’t want to take any chances, would you?”

“So, tell me, now that your secret is out, maybe you’ll answer one burning question for me.
Are all witches vegetarians?”
Mac asked as he eyed Cassie’s tofu burger.
The two sat side by side upon a weathered bench near the end of Port
Bellmont’s
fishing pier.

“Of course not.
W
hat would we do with the meat from all of the animals we sacrifice during our rituals?” she
asked,
her tone of voice implying that what she said was far too ridiculous to believe.

Mac’s smile was sardonic.
If she had a clue which paper he worked for she’d realize that such a statement could be horribly damning.
He could easily visualize the headline a couple of his fellow writers at
The Inquisitor
would delight in spreading across the front page of their rag - PORT BELLMONT WITCH ADMITS TO HORRIFYING ANIMAL SACRIFICES!

“Besides, there’s some who would say I’m not a true vegetarian because I eat eggs and dairy products.
I just don’t like the idea of some poor animal dying so I can have a hamburger when a tofu burger tastes just as good and is better for me.”

“So it’s a moral issue with you.”

“No, it’s a personal issue with me.”
She smiled up at him, hoping she hadn’t come across as preaching for her cause.
But just the same, it was a cause that was important to her.

She glanced over at
Sarge
who happily munched on a chew toy.
Cassie had spent nearly an hour teaching Mac how to train the pup to his new leash.
She figured the little guy had earned his reward.

“You were at the courthouse this morning, weren’t you?” she asked, holding his gaze with eyes that demanded nothing but the truth.
“Since I know you’re not from around here, may I assume you’re a reporter?”

He would have given anything to deny his profession, but he realized he could never lie to this woman. “Yes,” he answered on a sigh.
“And now, knowing that, I suppose you won’t want to have anything to do with me, right?”

She gazed out to sea for a moment before turning to answer him.
Looking directly into his eyes, she replied, “No, not really.
If you had lied to me, then I’d have told you to get lost.
But you were honest and I trust you.”

“Trust me?
You’ve got to be kidding!
Let me give you one piece of advice, my little witch.
Never, but never
,
trust a
reporter, no matter what he tells you.
We’re sharks, every one of us.”

She turned those penetrating eyes on him once again, pinning him with their power.
He felt as if she could see into the very depths of his soul.

“I’m sure that’s true of most of the others, but it’s not true of you.”

Cursing, he turned his face from her.
A muscle at the edge of his jaw twitched as he tightened his emotions against her.
She really was a witch, he thought angrily.
He hadn’t cared what anyone thought of him for longer than he could remember. Now, using trust as a surgeon would use a sca
lpel
, she had forced him to recognize painful emotions churning deep within
himself
, emotions he had been certain he’d destroyed years ago.

“I’m not what you think I am,” he said through clenched teeth, directing his gaze far out to sea.
H
e couldn’t bear to see the look of disgust in her eyes what would surely replace the trusting expression he found so appealing, yet so fr
u
strating, when she learned the truth about him.

“No, you aren’t what you think you are,” she rebuked him gently.

His eyes met her steady gaze.
“And just what do
you mean by that?”

“I mean that you see yourself as someone wh
o doesn’t care about anyone but
himself.
But that’s not true.
I know it’s not true.”
She spoke the words softly but with conviction.

“Did anyone ever tell you you’re nuts?”

“Not nuts -
psychic,”
The edges of her lips lifted ever so slightly, as if she knew he would treat her words as a joke, but she had spoken them in total candor.

He blew out a gust of air from lungs tight with emotion.
“Psychic, huh?
I suppose that’s another ‘witch’ thing?”

Her soft chuckle worked as a soothing balm to his troubled soul.
“No, it’s not another ‘witch’ thing.
It’s just something I was born with.
As a matter of fact, I think it came from my father’s side of the family.
And as far as I know, no one from his side of the family practiced witchcraft.
But, according to my mother, several of his ancestors were reported to have had ‘the gift’, as they called it.”

“You are a very strange woman, Cassie Adams.
Next you’ll be telling me you can read minds.”

“Only sometimes.”
She burst out laughing at the expression on his face.
“Believe me, it’s more of a nuisance than anything else.
”

“You mean to tell me you know everyt
h
ing I’ve been thinking?
”

“No!
Not everything …
” her voice trailed off, saying more than her words.

“Next I suppose you’re going to tell me that you can just plug into anybody’s thoughts anytime you want.”

“No, thank goodness.
Most people’s thoughts are dreadful
l
y dull.
Some people’s mi
nds are completely closed to me,
Sheriff Whi
t
a
ker
’s
, for one.
And then there are others who fairly spew their thoughts at me.
I think o
f some people as ‘loud thinkers
’
.
Unfortunately, they
usually fall into the dull cate
gory.”

“And which class d
o I fit into?
He wasn’t sure
whether he would rather have a
closed mind or be one of those people Cassie classified as boring
, loud
thinkers.

“Actually, you are in a class of your own.
Your mind is far from closed to me, but I’m not getting your actual thoughts.
What I get from you are your emotions.
I feel what you feel.”

“I’m not so sure I like that idea.”

“Well, you can relax.
It doesn’t happen all of the time and I can’t tune into you at will.
It just sort of happens.”

“Hey!
Watch it!” Mac yelped as
Sarge
who,
tired of chewing on his chew toy, decided to turn his attention to Mac’s shoe.

“I need to get back to the shop.”
Cassie stood, grateful for the interruption.
Mac would never understand.
She would rather end the conversation than continue trying
to convince him of her special talents.
Sometimes they were beyo
nd
her
own
understanding.
“Would you like to walk with me, or have I completely scared you away?”

“I’m not that easily scared off,” Mac mumbled as he took hold of
Sarge’s
leash in the manner that Cassie had taught him.

“Good!
You’ve got it.”
She gave him an approving glance as they turned back to her shop.
“Now
,
tell me, Mr. McCormick, how long have you been a reporter?” She looked up at him, curious to see the expression in his eyes as he answered her question.
The bitterness she saw in them saddened her.

“Forever,” the bitterness in his voice mat
ched the expression in his eyes, b
ut then, determined to not allow his
dissatisfaction with his current job status
to
spoil their pleasant
time together, he turned to her
and with a teasing smile asked, “And how long have you been a witch?”

“Forever!”
Her golden eyes sparkled with humor as she echoed
his own
answer.
They laughed together as if one of them had told a particularly funny joke, though both had been completely serious in their responses.

At that moment he saw t
he woman Cassie Adams truly was: a
charming, delightful, altogether sexy lady who bore on
ly a slight resemblance to the ‘witch’
he had observed at the courthouse earlier that morning.
He cringed at the thought of what the media could do to this beautiful creature.