Page 13 of Fated Moons
“What else did you do with your dad?”
“He took us fishing. Taught us how to drive a car, change a tire, even how to change the oil. We would play baseball and basketball,” she said as she stared out the window. “But I think camping was my favorite thing to do with my dad. We’d do it every year and it was always just so peaceful.”
“You’re lucky you had a father to teach you those things.” He glanced at her as he pulled onto the Thruway. “And spend time with you.”
“What about your mother?” She expected to see sadness or, at the very least, an emptiness in his shadowy eyes from a childhood without a father, but instead, a sense of pride simmered behind the intense teal green.
“She worked two jobs to keep a roof over our heads until I made enough money to support the family. She didn’t have a lot of free time, but family time was always important, and my siblings and I are all very close.”
All the reports she’d read about Jackson over the years painted him—and his family—as lone wolves. The tabloids always presented Jackson as a recluse, which was almost unheard of when it came to werewolves with their strong bonds to their pack. But the only ones to ever describe him as angry or difficult to work with had been his ex-girlfriends. Even throughhis public breakups, he’d remained quiet while the women went after him with all they had, making them look like vindictive bitches. Heidi had said she left Jackson because he had a mean streak and cheated, but everyone had seen her nasty side when she tossed a drink in his face at a party after a major award show.
Her reasoning for the outburst was that Jackson had been cruel. Only the entire encounter had been filmed, so no one believed her side of the story.
But Jackson never made a statement, which actually made him look as though he could have done or said something deserving of a cosmo being tossed on his nice white shirt.
“I’m sorry your childhood was so rough,” she managed to croak out.
He shrugged his shoulders. “It’s not your fault my father’s a big prick.”
“My father is a good, loving man,” she whispered, wishing she could have taken the words back.
“I can tell that he is and he’s shown my family great kindness. So many others aren’t as blessed as you have been.”
She let his words hang in the breeze as he exited the Thruway and merged onto the Northway. Her father’s protection spell blanketed her body like a warm, fuzzy throw as they drove farther away from the city. The spell would warn her of anyone wishing to cause her harm of any kind.
But that wouldn’t protect Jackson.
Not that she expected anything bad to happen, but it was nice to feel the comfort of her father’s arms.
The royal family of the Coven of the Silver Flock would never use witchcraft to harm anyone or to better themselves over someone else. People often wondered why they called themselves witches if they didn’t use it, which made her laugh because they practiced witchcraft every day. Being a witch was a way of life, and they used their craft to help ease the pain of thesick and seek guidance in their future. They used it to help the less fortunate. To create safe havens for those who had nothing.
Spells and potions were a combination of medicine, spiritual healing, cosmic energy, and a portal into the mind. When a witch chose not to practice, their magic suffered. Amanda had even heard of witches losing all their power and essentially transforming into a mere human. Not that there was anything wrong with humans. They had their own purpose on the planet and in this realm. But she couldn’t imagine a life without magic.
“Where are we going?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder. They had traveled for nearly two hours. She could understand getting out of the city. Away from where reporters were lurking on every street corner. She thought maybe he might be taking her closer to her family home, an hour outside the city. Or his, which she’d learned was only forty minutes away from where she lived.
But this seemed a little over the top.
“My cabin.” He glanced in her direction. “It’s peaceful, quiet, and no one will bother us there.”
She checked the rearview mirror. She supposed the paparazzi could have followed them, but she would have sensed that with the protection spell since they only wanted a picture and a byline so they’d snag a nice hefty paycheck.
Or maybe not, since Jackson wouldn’t let her father cast the same spell on him.
Her father was more than a high priest. He was a wizard and a master of his craft.
The wildest thing she’d ever seen her father do was make a Thanksgiving feast appear in a homeless shelter when a blizzard had prevented the food trucks from getting through. Over the years, as she read her father’s Book of Spells, his goodwill and constant modesty humbled her.
She stared out the window, arms folded over her chest, legs crossed at the ankles as he continued up the Northway. The city buildings had long been replaced with lush greenery. Tall trees lined the curvy road. Colorful bushes speckled the hilltops. As a kid, during the full moon, her father would take her and her sisters to Lake George. It was their favorite place to go camping.
Deep down, she was no city girl, and they always lived on the fringes of the Big Apple. She enjoyed all the comforts of home as much as a good campfire. While she much preferred a nice plush king-size bed, she never minded an air mattress while staring at the stars on a crisp, cool summer’s night.
“And where is that?”
“Lake George,” he said.
“We could just stop at a diner somewhere. No need to go all the way out there just for you to have to drive me home in a few hours, which will be in the middle of the night, and I don’t feel like breaking out the concept of the flying witch to get back.” She turned and glared. “Which is impossible. You know that, right? We can’t fly more than maybe a hundred feet. We don’t break out broomsticks and fly across the night sky. Our only ability is to hover above the ground and that’s only during rituals and spells.”
“That was a little more information than I needed.” He glanced in her direction. “I’m not driving you home.”
