Black Mountain Magic (Kentucky Haints #1) Read online

  “I’m sorry,” she said again. “That must have been difficult for your family.”

  “Thing is, I don’t remember much about her. I barely remember what she looked like, unless I see a picture of her. But the thought of her has haunted me all these years.”

  She had no siblings of her own. She couldn’t imagine someone in her family just…disappearing.

  “I feel like, maybe I’ll find her out here one of these days.” He looked around. “Put the mystery to rest, if only for my Mama and Daddy’s sake.”

  “I doubt there’d be much to find after all these years.” She winced at her callousness. “Sorry.”

  “People from your agency were already here when it happened. ‘Assessing the situation,’ as they put it. Three days after she disappeared, they finally moved in and cleared them out.”

  It would be lame to keep saying “I’m sorry,” but she wasn’t sure what else to say.

  “A little too late if it was Wolvites that got her,” he said. “I just don’t want it to come too late again and more people get hurt. Especially when it could have been prevented.”

  “I don’t either. That’s why Holden and I are working hard to find the answers. I can’t make the agency inform your town, but the faster Holden and I find out the truth, the faster it’ll get them to release the information. That’s what I can do right now.”

  He heaved a sigh. “I know you’re trying. I’m sorry for jumping down your throat.”

  “I get why you did.”

  They sat silent. The trickle of water and twitter of birds filled the quiet. Jack and Holden were no longer in sight. Being alone with Deacon was both nerve-wracking and exciting at the same time.

  “You looked a little out of it earlier.” He chuckled. “When we were walking. You had stars in your eyes.”

  She sat back on her hands. “I felt weird. I still feel it. It’s not unpleasant, just strange.”

  “Your witchy powers?”

  She nodded. “I’ve felt this way before, but not as strong.”

  “Nature gets a witch, they say.”

  She kicked at the grass. “I guess so.”

  He bent over, and sat back up, holding a little sprig of white wildflowers. He held them out to her.

  “What?” She eyed them warily.

  “Take ‘em.”

  She plucked the sprig from his fingers. The flowers looked like little snowflakes.

  “Usually I get roses,” she teased. She had never gotten roses.

  “Took you for more of a wine and chocolates kind of gal.”

  “Not really.”

  The flowers seemed to open wider, as though blooming, and stretch toward her. An illusion perhaps, or a byproduct of the way her brain was swimming; however, it wasn’t the light playing tricks on her eyes. The flowers responded to her touch. She gasped.

  “Yep.” Deacon smirked. “It’s your witchy powers. I’ve seen my Grammy do that with all sorts of plants. She says they wanna talk to you.”

  The little petals unfurled and quivered. The tiny green leaves on the stems rustled. The stalk grew warm between her fingertips.

  “Expect they’re mad I just killed them,” Deacon said.

  She recoiled and tossed the sprig away in the grass. Flowers crying out in their death throes? The notion horrified her.

  Deacon laughed. “Sorry. I don’t think plants actually have emotions or feel pain. Least, my Grammy never said they do.”

  “I don’t see what good any of this does me. So, I can make flowers bloom? Awesome. That sounds more like a Disney princess than a witch.”

  “Maybe you can do other things. Maybe you can feel the danger that’s lurking in this holler. Maybe you can tell what’s out there.”

  “I just feel sort of lightheaded and tingly. That’s all.”

  “Concentrate.”

  The whole thing seemed silly, but she tried. Maybe she did feel something, but it was hard to decipher, like the world was humming in her ears, a song without words. Perhaps she could sense the scope and breadth of the valley, the roots of the trees, the leaves dangling from the branches; and maybe, out at the edges, something dark and foreboding. Or maybe she imagined all of it.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “I’m not used to this.”

  “Well, at least you know a gun. That’s a lot more useful right now.”

  “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “You saved my hide last night. I had my guard down.”

  Her cheeks warmed. “We were careless.”

  “It was worth it.”

  She let out a harsh laugh. “We could have died.”

  “I would have died happy.”

  She rolled her eyes, but her blush inched up a few degrees.

  “Come here, I wanna show you something.” He got to his feet.

  She stood and followed him to the rock wall behind the pool. They passed into the shadow of the ledge, the air cooler there. He smoothed his hand over the rock and cleared away some dirt and moss.

  “See that?” He tapped the rock.

  She edged up beside him. A stripe of darker rock cut through the rest. Much darker, in fact. Black.

  “That’s a coal vein,” he said.

  She touched it. The stripe was smooth and cool.

  “They’d like nothing more than to dig it all up.” He waved around. “Strip this place bare.”

  Her stomach lurched, something primal deep inside her that railed against the idea. “I hope they never do. This is too beautiful to destroy, even if there are Wolvites here.”

  He gripped her arm lightly and drew her closer to the wall. His eyes twinkled. The ledge shielded them.

  “They could be back any second,” she whispered.

  “We’ll hear them coming down, don’t worry.”

  She didn’t resist as he kissed her. She could almost taste the smoky flavor of moonshine again. Even now, here, in the light of day, his kiss came across just as hard and hungry, and made her knees go weak. She slipped her hands under his jacket. He groped her as well.

  Maybe it was a side effect of her power, or maybe it was all him, but a fierce and compulsive urge overtook her. She broke the kiss and pressed a hand to his chest. His heart pounded against her palm.

  “I owe you something,” she murmured.

  His eyes had gone deep and dangerous with desire. “Do you, now?”

  Before she could lose her nerve, she undid his pants.

  He looked up at the ledge. “You just said it, they could be back any second.”

  She yanked his fly open. “Then we better make this quick.”

  She dropped to her knees in the soft grass and pulled the front of his jeans and underwear down. He had already started getting hard and damn was he a big, thick boy. She didn’t have time to appreciate his gift, though. She gripped his cock and slid her mouth over it.

  “Holy shit,” he gasped.

  He swayed and she grabbed his hip, and clung to his belt to give them both leverage. Her jaw stretched wider as he hardened fully in her mouth.

  He breathed quick and shallow, his hand on her shoulder. She hadn’t done this in a while, but usually she took her time and enjoyed herself. Right now, she bobbed her head swiftly and urged him to finish fast.

  In less than a minute, he let out a growl and clutched her jacket in his fist, so hard it tightened across her shoulders.

  “Oh damn, Lorena.”

  His cock throbbed and released thick, salty heat into her mouth. He pitched on his feet and she held on tighter, though she didn’t have a hope in hell of holding him up if he started to fall over.

  As soon as he stopped coming, she pulled her mouth off. He’d braced himself against the rock wall with his other hand. His chest worked with heavy breaths, his mouth open, eyelids drooped. He let go of her jacket and she let go of his jeans.

  They hadn’t had an STI talk—or a conversation about any of this, actually—so she would play it as safe as she could, considering her rash decision. She leaned
over and tried to spit as delicately and ladylike as possible into the grass. It wasn’t ladylike at all.

  Then again, blowing a guy in the middle of the woods wasn’t exactly the height of decorum.

  Muffled voices came from above and they scrambled to right themselves. Deacon did up his button and zipper. She brushed off her knees, wiped the back of her hand across her mouth, and strolled around the pool, forcing a blank face.

  Deacon weaved and stumbled back to the rock. She stifled a giggle.

  Jack and Holden appeared above and picked their way down the ledge. Lorena tucked her hands in her jacket pockets, not looking at Deacon.

  “See anything interesting?” she asked when they reached the ground.

  “There’s definitely a cave system out there,” Holden said. “But I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.”

  Deacon grabbed his gun and stood up. They gathered in front of the pool.

  “You wanna go deeper into the holler?” Jack asked. “We can go closer to the caves if you want.”

  “Might be risky.” Deacon’s voice was slightly breathy.

  “It might be.” Lorena nodded. “But if we hope to find anything, we have to take some risks. The sooner, the better.”

  They voted to press farther into the valley. Jack and Holden started down the path again and Lorena glanced at Deacon. He pushed a hand through his hair and slung his rifle onto his shoulder.

  “You’re coming over to my place for dinner tonight,” he said. Not a question. A demand.

  She licked her lips. “I guess I am.”

  Chapter 6

  Deacon’s house was small and cozy, and unsurprisingly simple and disorganized like a typical bachelor pad. He had an overabundance of clutter and lack of decoration. The air smelled wonderfully of things cooking, though. In his small living room, shelves full of stereo and video equipment flanked the TV.

  “Zeke’s an audiophile.” Deacon handed her a bottle of beer. “He insisted on setting me up.”

  She liked the place. Deacon cut a nice figure too, in jeans and a black t-shirt.

  “Looks like you do okay with your odd jobs.” She smiled. “You got a lot of land out there too, a nice big yard.”

  “My Mama and Daddy helped put me up here. Come this way and get the grand tour.”

  She followed him down a hallway. At the end was the kitchen, bright and well-appointed, with white marble countertops and shiny smooth hardwood cabinets. Several pots simmered on the stove.

  He also had two bedrooms. One he called his “office,” and it did contain a desk and computer; also, a flat-screen TV and several gaming systems.

  “Told you Zeke’s a tech-head.” He waved dismissively at the systems.

  “Uh huh.” She took a sip of her beer. “So how many points does your character have in World of Warcraft?”

  He chuckled. “You don’t earn points in World of Warcraft. And you don’t play it on a console.” He placed a hand on the small of her back and guided her across the hallway to the opposite door.

  This was his bedroom, which, like a gentleman, he didn’t try to lead her into. Not yet, anyway. He simply reached in and flipped on the light, and made a gesture as if to say “tah-dah.”

  A high queen sized bed sat in the middle of the room, blankets and quilts draped over it. The walls and carpet were drab and plain. She didn’t judge. She wasn’t home enough to decorate her own bedroom. As long as she had a soft surface and a blanket after a long day, she didn’t care where she slept.

  “Needs a woman’s touch,” he said. “I ain’t never been much for decorating.”

  “Me neither. My apartment is more of a way station. I haven’t had time to make it pretty.”

  They walked to the kitchen. He pulled out a stool at the island counter in the middle of the room. She slid up on it.

  “This room is nice,” she said. “Seems you’ve put a bit of thought into it. You’re quite the cook, huh?”

  He walked to the stove. “Like I said, Mama taught me how to cook, Daddy how to shoot. My Mama always said you won’t survive long around these parts if you can’t do both.”

  “Does your mom know how to shoot?”

  “With the best of ‘em.”

  She sipped her beer and looked around. A dog loped into the room, a saggy-jowled, black, white, and rust-colored Basset hound. It gazed up at her with big watery brown eyes.

  “Oh, who’s this?” She swiveled on her stool.

  Deacon looked over. “That’s Clem, he’s an old mutt. Careful, he’ll slobber you to death. He was too darn lazy to come greet you when you came in. Where’s your manners, Clem?”

  She bent over and offered the dog her hand. He sniffed it. After a moment it was clear she passed the smell test and she scratched behind his ear.

  “He ain’t too happy these days,” Deacon said. “Before the Wolvites got frisky, he could go out any time, day or night. Now I gotta keep him in. That’s why he moons around out on the back porch.” A closed-in back porch sat off the kitchen. This was where Clem had come from.

  “Is he a hunting dog?”

  “God, no.” Deacon laughed. “Except maybe if he sees a whistle pig or rabbit in his territory, which is the backyard. Clem’s more of a lay-about dog.”

  “Clem.” She smiled. “That’s a funny name for a dog.”

  “It’s my Grandpa’s name.” Deacon opened the oven door and bent down. She tried not to stare at his ass jutted toward her, but failed.

  “Ah, I see.” She continued scratching Clem. “You’re close to your grandparents, aren’t you? You talk about them fondly.”

  Deacon stood and closed the oven door, pan in hand. “I am fond of them.” He placed the pan on the stove and grabbed a serving plate from the counter. “They helped raise me and my brothers. When I was a kid, my Mama and Daddy always had at least two or three jobs apiece. It wasn’t easy in them days. This part of the country’s always been poor. They were fighting every day to put food on the table and clothes on our backs. Daddy worked in the coal mines for a piece, until he saw men getting a cough. Didn’t wanna leave this world like my great-grandpa did. Even a Lycan can get a black lung.”

  She’d never experienced something like that: a big, tightly-interwoven family. She’d only had her mother and grandmother.

  She tried to stop petting Clem, but he fixed her with such a pitiful look she went back to it. “Zeke said your grandfather told you about a Lycan code. He said you believe in it.”

  Deacon brought the serving tray over to the island, the tray heaped with thick slices of cornbread. “Zeke sure does say a lot.”

  “He told me there’s a Lycan code that says Lycans are supposed to be with witches. He thought your grandfather might have just said that to impress your grandmother, though.”

  “He might have. He’s madly in love with that woman. I reckon he’d do anything to impress her.”

  Lorena sat up and grabbed her beer. Clem plopped down next to her stool. “But you really do believe in it?”

  Deacon shrugged. He went back to the stove and returned with a wide bowl, filled with collard greens.

  “Maybe it’s just the romantic in me.” He set the bowl down. “Don’t every type of people have their myths? Stories get passed down through families. Ideas come from your ancestors. Some are true. Some get stretched a bit.”

  “Zeke said his wife is a witch. And Jack married a witch too, right?”

  “He did, though she ain’t as powerful as my Grammy. Grammy’s wary of her, says she’s too quiet. My Grammy’s wary of all newcomers, though. Jack likes her, and that’s good enough for me.”

  “How did they meet?”

  “He was on a camping trip in Tennessee with some friends, she was camping too. They come across each other out in the woods. Reckon you gotta go out of state to meet women.”

  She grinned. “Women from out of state must be interesting.”

  He smiled. “They fell hard and fast for each other, and she come up here not t
oo long after. They were married six months later. She’s always been a quiet thing, real skittish. Expect we’re a bit too rowdy for her. When my Grammy found out she was a witch, she had to swoop in and start pecking, that’s her way. Ain’t no wonder the poor girl gets nervous.”

  “So this area must be thick with witches, I take it.”

  “Yeah, there’s a lot of witches around these parts. Lots of witches in Appalachia, period. Just like there’s lots of Lycans. It’s a good place for us, I reckon. Plenty of nature.”

  “You’re holding out for a witch too? That’s why you’re not married yet?”

  He snorted. “At this point in my life, I’m up for any woman who’ll take me, truth be told.”

  She took a sip of her beer. “So that’s what that was about, in the truck last night?” She cleared her throat.

  He winked. “I’m not gonna drag you off by the hair, don’t worry.”

  “Is there other things in the Lycan code? Apart from chasing after witches?”

  “There’s plenty. A whole lot of information about us, where we come from, and how we ought to be.”

  “I’ve never heard of any Lycan code. It’s not something they taught us at the agency.”

  He grabbed a bundle of silverware from the other side of the island. “That’s because it’s about Lycans. Maybe I’ll share it with you, someday. I can tell you there’s a main rule, the one everyone still follows: the newest generation are the protectors.”

  “Protectors?”

  “Of the town, of our people. That’s me and Zeke and Jack now. Our Daddies are retired. They took over for their Daddies once, too. It’s how it goes. The old ones still protect the family, but the young ones protect the community.”

  “It sounds so…traditional.”

  “Everything around here is steeped in tradition.” He strolled to the fridge. “So you’re from Indiana. How’d you get such a southern name?”

  No one had ever asked her that before, surprisingly.

  “My father was from Mississippi. Lorena was his grandmother’s name. I never met her, though. I never met any of his family.”

  “How come?” He turned from the fridge with two fresh beers in hand. “Your mother didn’t visit them after he died?”