Spring Rain (The Witchling #4)(15)
Rosy twisted to face her and cocked one eyebrow up in a silent question. The barista at the bar was already stepping aside, accustomed to moving whenever one of Morgan’s regulars came in.
“Sure,” Morgan said half-heartedly. She was ready to go home after a day of espresso and Stu flirting with her, but she understood the importance of keeping the customers happy. She returned to the station and made two drinks quickly.
“She tipped us a five,” Rosy whispered between patrons. “You should start keeping your tips, Red. They’ll pay for your college.”
“Nah. It’s okay,” Morgan replied. “You guys split it.” It wasn’t because she didn’t need the money – she probably would eventually – but because she wanted to keep her coworkers as happy as the customers. Happiness bred loyalty of sorts or at least, they’d hopefully alert her if someone came snooping around looking for her like several days ago. She had learned a thing or two about being cautious from reading articles online. Being social wasn’t really her thing, so sharing tips made up for her lack of interest in those around her.
“Thanks, Red!” Rosy called as Morgan tossed her apron into a laundry bin beneath the counter. “See you tomorrow!”
Morgan waved and left, stepping into the cool night. The lights of The Strip reached the suburbs, and the sky above Vegas glowed. She’d gotten her wish of a winter without snow. A native of northern New York, she was accustomed to the cold and snow but had never cared for it, less so after going to the unwelcoming boarding school in northern Idaho.
On nights like this, when she felt lonely, she had the urge to call her brother and tell him she was alive and well. She had heard that Connor, a water witchling, had turned Light. Without the soul stone and with the support of the Light witchling community, he would have a better chance at life than her parents had. She was proud of him and aware when he found out about her, he was going to flip out.
She smiled mischievously, unable to help her satisfaction at knowing how shocked her sibling would be. Competitive and equally hot-headed, Connor and she sparred over everything when they had the chance.
I miss them both.
How she missed Beck, someone she didn’t know for very long, as much as Connor baffled her. She didn’t know what Beck would do if he found out she was alive. Flip out? Beat her like her uncle might or scream at her the way her father did? She didn’t know enough male witchlings to know what was normal for them. Although …
Beck was sweet and gentle and had always treated her like she was precious. He hadn’t resembled any of the men in her family. She allowed her mind to wander wistfully back to the night he’d taken her somewhere he never took anyone, even Dawn: to meet his extended family. She’d dared him to make a choice about whether or not he was interested in her. He’d done so and then upped the ante and challenged her to.
I chose you, Beck. Not that it mattered. She’d managed to ruin things as usual, and even the best man in the world hadn’t been able to make things right.
The happy memory faded, and she trudged home. Her evening routine was always the same: dinner, an hour of television, a hot shower and then to bed.
This night, Morgan sat and gazed at her surroundings. She intended to leave tomorrow and was finding it hard to want to walk away from the apartment that was hers. It had been nice to have her own little home for once.
With a sigh, she double checked her locks then went to bed.
Sometime later, in the middle of the night, Morgan jerked awake. The sound of someone banging on the door of her apartment made her sit up quickly, and she threw off the blankets to grab the bat she had tucked just under the bed. Without bothering to get dressed, she crept to the door. The pounding had stopped, and her heart raced at the fear streaking through her of being discovered by Dawn.
“Fire!” the muffled cry was accompanied by the shadow of someone running past her living room window.
Morgan didn’t lower the bat until she peeked through the peephole to confirm no one was outside. She opened the door and leaned out to see the crowd gathering in the parking lot while someone else ran door to door alerting the occupants and ordering people to wake up. Sirens wailed in the distance.
She closed her door and locked it, sensing there was no better time to make an exit than now. She released fire magick to find out where the fire originated and which direction it was headed.
With a frown, Morgan sensed the fire magick of another witchling present. She let her magick follow the traces of power through the building. The fire originated outside but had spread quickly to the roof. The apartment building was burning from the roof to the ground.
Dawn had a fire witchling for one of her lackeys. Troy. Morgan recalled her last interaction with both and shuddered. Like most fire witchlings, Troy was Dark, and a faint thread of Darkness was interwoven into the flames tackling her apartment building.
The fire wasn’t accidental but a sign she’d been found. Morgan tossed the bat onto the couch and started away from the door. Movement from the corner of her eye made her whirl, and fire flared to life in her hands again, illuminating her surroundings.
The only lackey of Dawn’s capable of canceling out her fire magick was in her home. Morgan hesitated then bolted towards her bedroom.
Troy tackled her and slammed her into the wall between the kitchen and bedroom. Morgan gasped, and fire spun off both, sparking and igniting the kitchen cupboards. Troy couldn’t burn her, but he could disable her magic and turn this into a purely physical battle.