Witch in the Wind (Bandit Creek Books) Read Free Page A

Creek.
    Cora’s voice drifted to him as a mumble. The other woman’s words were soft but clearer.
    “And she was happy with his work?”
    He could see that Cora was nodding affirmative as she reached for a pad of paper and scribbled something on it before handing the note across the desk.
    The second woman smiled her appreciation. “It’s so hard to find a good handyman. I’m glad you could recommend this Shipley guy, Cora.”
    George Shipley had arrived in town about the same time Marcus had last November. A quiet man, who he’d heard would only work for cash. Depending on who you listened to in town, the handyman was an international jewel thief hiding from the law, a sad amnesiac who had no memory of his past, or a nasty drug smuggler escaping a Mexican war lord.
    Bandit Creek only had about 3000 residents so Marcus knew most of the key players. He had a nodding acquaintance with the Mayor and his wife, Sheriff Morgan and Deputy Medicine Crow, the bank manager and the odd looking bartender at the Powder Horn Saloon, and, of course, the town drunk, Jack. He didn’t recognize this woman or the dog. He shrugged. The dog looked healthy so maybe they hadn’t been in before.
    He debated if he should fade into the background. In his line of work, his talent for making even another witch’s eye look past him without registering his presence was useful. He felt a nother power surge .
    “What the—
    The woman wasn't the magic source. And t he beast already knew Marcus was there . Fierce, dark eyes locked on him, not in a friendly, or mortal, way. What the hell is a f amiliar doing here? F amiliars couldn’t be summoned. They appeared only when gifted by a more powerful spirit in times of great danger. There hadn’t been such a creature around The Otherland for centuries. So who sent this one, he wondered. And why?
    Pushing away from the wall, Marcus wandered over to the reception desk. By habit, he moved with quiet steps, yet the young woman seemed to sense his approach and turned in his direction. She pulled the cap from her head, pushed loose wisps of hair from her forehead, and looked up at him.
    His breath stopped in his throat and his mouth watered. The little nymph was more than the usual pretty combination of golden blond hair and flawless fair skin. Her electric blue eyes, even smudged with fatigue, jolted his gut in a way he hadn’t felt since his teens, when his magical energy was working overtime along with his hormones.
    He smiled and managed to keep his stance ca sual as he kept one eye on the f amiliar and one on the woman. She seemed startled for a second but then returned his smile with a brilliant one of her own. The f amiliar didn’t. He bared his teeth and growled.
    “I mean you no harm.” He didn’t want the familiar to blow his cover so he stood completely still as he spoke to it directly .
    To the woman he said, “Is he always afraid of strangers?”
    The familiar rumbled again as if insulted.
    “Only you as far as I know,” she replied. Her voice, a rich alto, wrapped around him like a siren’s song. “He was fine with me, and the sheriff, yesterday.”
    He blinked trying to regain some control of his brain. “What’s his name?” He eased his hand, very slowly, towards the familiar murmuring reassurances that only the magical beast would understand.
    “I don’t know really. I found him last night with no collar.” She shrugged and a light flush colored her cheeks. “I’ve been calling him Busby. You know, after the big furry hats the guards at Buckingham Palace wear. When I first saw him on my porch, that’s what he reminded me of.”
    That answers one question, he thought. He’s here to protect this woman. But does she know that? With his hand dangerously close to the familiar’s mouth, he let the beast scent the strength of his power. Warlocks were a level above most magical creatures, having been bred for generations as warriors. Of course, that didn’t mean the familiar