Page 9 of Witch Moon

She blinked as if in surprise.

"Look. I'm way out of practice at this knight in shining armor routine. And if I take you to work, and you keel over halfway through the day, it's gonna ruin the entire effort.Andmake me look really bad to my daughter."

Her expression softened a little. He thought she might have almost smiled. "She means a lot to you, your daughter."

"Rowan is all I have in the world."

She frowned, tilted her head to one side. "I think your wife would disagree with that."

"My wife died ten years ago."

"I'm so sorry," she said. "I...didn't realize...."

"Look, the point is, you are my daughter's favorite teacher. And I had every intention of calling you today anyway. And now you've gone and hurt yourself protecting Rowan from a runaway truck, and you don't even want to let me see you home. Put yourself in my shoes for a minute, will you?"

She looked at him oddly, as if she suspected him of some dire ulterior motive. But softly, she said, "All right. You can take me home. It's out on Sycamore."

"That's only a few blocks from us. We're on Highland." He smiled and put the car in gear, pulled out of the parking lot and headed toward her house.

"And on the way," she said, "maybe you can tell me why you were planning to call me today."

"Right." He took a breath, chose his words with care. The last thing he wanted was to say anything that seemed negative about his daughter. She was brilliant, and deep, and thoughtful and wonderful. "I wanted to talk about Rowan." He glanced sideways at her, watching her reactions.

A quick frown bent her brows and she looked at him intently, all defenses, all wariness gone. He liked that, that swift, concerned reaction. "Why"? Is something wrong?"

"I was hoping you could tell me."

He droppedher off at her home, insisted on walking her to the door, and left his card with his beeper and cell phone numbers on the back for her to use in case she needed anything.

She went inside, closed the door, and watched him until his car was out of sight. Then she snatched up the phone and called Gwenyth.

"I know who he is!" she all but shouted when her best friend picked up.

"What? Who? Bella, what are you talking about?"

"The man. In the dream! I know who he is. His name is Jonathon Hawthorne and he's a prosecutor for the district attorney's office. His daughter is a student of mine. Rowan."

She could almost see Gwen's frown. "Is this the girl you pushed out of the path of that truck this morning?"

"Yes!"

"And that was her father you drove away with?"

"Yes!"

"Are you freaking out of your mind, Mirabella?"

"Yes! No. I don't know." Bella pushed a hand through her hair and paced the room. "He said he was going to call me anyway today. To talk to me about Rowan. He says she's been going through some drastic changes, lately, and he's worried about her."

"What is she? Thirteen? Fourteen?"

"Fourteen."

"And he's worried about changes?" Gwen blew a sigh. "Fourteen-year-olds are made up of changes. If you cut them open, changes are what you see writhing around in their insides. What is he, from Mars or something?"

Bella paced the floor, licking her lips. "No, there's more to it. He was holding a lot back, I could tell. But he was talking to me about her...he says she's starting to show interest in the Craft-or, the 'occult' as he calls it. She's been asking questions that make him uncomfortable. And he seems determined to put a stop to it."

"Do you blame him? The only things he probably knows-thinks he knows-about the Craft are butchered kitties and defaced tombstones." She sighed. "Why doesn't he have Rowan's mother talk to her? I mean, women tend to understand these things...."

---